


can't turn away

by lyceums (carmiros)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, First Kiss, Gay Panic, Genderfluid Character, Getting Together, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Karaoke, M/M, Mutual Pining, NaNoWriMo, Panic Attacks, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, i promise this is ultra soft and gay, like my boys put the homo in homosexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 16:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 38,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmiros/pseuds/lyceums
Summary: A love story between a college student and a bookstore owner with an absurd amount of cats.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WHO WANTS SOME **ORIGINAL CONTENT**???
> 
> these are the ocs i've been developing for, like, two years and this AU is based off sarper duman's [instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/sarperduman) i saw his videos and couldn't help but fall in love.
> 
> i also made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/zizzlefashizzle/playlist/2xzIt3WNtCNPHiQUTTqO06) you can listen to while reading! thanks!

Lyceum Café is a small, hole-in-the-wall bookstore in Brooklyn that blends in perfectly with the hipster scene of the city. The store smells heavily of espresso and old books, strong and earthy, soothing but not enough to have anyone fall asleep.

Its shelves are stuffed to the brim with donated books of every genre, from business to art history. The floorboards creak and there are track ladders for the taller shelves some people can’t reach. It’s a perfect place for students to buy their textbooks, meet for study groups or wake up with coffee.

Carter stumbles upon it one morning on the way to class, following his roommate in through bleary eyes and heavy footsteps.

The heavy scent of coffee beans is like a slap in the face as Carter steps in, the door bell jingling above him.

Anthony laughs as he looks over. “Morning rush, dude.”

“Yeah, but _Christ,_ ” Carter replies, rubbing his eyes.

As they both approach the line at the coffee counter, Anthony raises a hand in greeting. “Ramiro!”

Carter tries to get a peek at whoever Anthony is speaking to, but only catches a voice replying, “Ugh, why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here.”

The customers in front of them move out of the way and Carter finally sees the mystery person. Behind the counter there’s a college-aged guy with long, dark brown hair pulled back into a bun and a splash of freckles across his cheeks. Dark eyes shine as they meet Carter’s gaze and an easy smile falls upon his lips.  

_Oh, God._

“What can I get for you?”

Carter’s tongue feels like cotton. His shirt sticks to his back. _When did he start sweating?_ “Um, I’ll just… uh, have whatever Anthony got. Hi. I’m ga— I mean, I’m Carter.”

Anthony chokes on his laugh and Carter blindly elbows him in the gut. Ramiro doesn’t seem to notice, just has his gaze linger on Carter before nodding.

“Cool.”

“Yeah, cool,” Carter mutters. He watches Ramiro write their names on plastic cups and pass them to a tall, willowy girl Carter recognizes from Evelyn’s study groups. She catches Ramiro’s eye and grins, making him blink abruptly.

Carter and Ramiro’s eyes meet and Ramiro’s cheeks turn red, making his freckles stand out. Something flips in the pit of Carter’s stomach and he should be rambling right now about anything and everything, but he’s so _lost_ in how the green flannel Ramiro’s wearing complements his bronzed skin tone and how the loose strands of hair frame his round face.

There’s something about his eyes, not bright with mirth but a determined fire that Carter can’t look away from.

“You’re staring,” Anthony stage-whispers. Carter punches him in the shoulder.

“Shut _up,_ oh my God.” But Carter’s cheeks feel heated and he sneaks a glance over to Ramiro, who is adding whipped cream on top of their drinks. His tongue is sticking out in concentration and it’s the cutest thing Carter has ever seen.

“Here, how much is it?” Carter asks him, fishing his wallet out of his backpack.

Ramiro looks up from the drinks. “Oh! Uh, don’t worry about it. It’s— it’s on the house.”

“No, dude, I insist. How much should I give you?”

“It’s free—”

Carter thrusts a fifty dollar bill across the counter. It’s excessive, he knows, but it isn’t like he doesn’t have more money in his wallet. And Ramiro deserves the money.

“I— this is way too much, I can’t—” Ramiro starts but Carter interjects.

“Shhh, just take it.”

Anthony squeezes in, literally, resting an elbow on the counter, and adds, “Ro-Ro, just take it or else Carter will empty his whole wallet for you.”

Ramiro glares. “Don’t call me that.”

That earns him a grin. “ _Ro-Ro._ ”

Carter elbows Anthony in the gut. “Don’t call him that.”

Anthony raises his eyebrows and Carter knows that means they’re going to talk about this later— meaning he’s going to be made fun of for _days_. Maybe even months.

He turns back to Ramiro and pushes the money closer to him. “Take it.”

Their eyes lock and hold, Ramiro’s eyes blazing but Carter stands his ground. This guy _will_ take his money because this is the only way Carter knows how to flirt.

Ramiro blinks. “Fine,” he relents, putting the money in the cash register.

“ _Thank you,_ ” Carter sing-songs, grinning, and Ramiro rolls his eyes. The action doesn’t really seem out of annoyance; at least, Carter thinks so, because Ramiro is smiling that same easy smile.

Carter knows it’s barely been any time at all, but he feels like he knows Ramiro, like they’ve been friends for years and are just running into each other by chance.

He shakes his head. There’s no reason for him to be thinking like that.

Anthony slings an arm across Carter’s shoulders, jostling him a bit. Carter’s drink threatens to spill. “Well, Ramiro, me and good ‘ole Carter gotta head to class. See ya! Tell the cats I said hi!”

“See you never, _pendejo_ ,” Ramiro says.

“Admit it, you love me!” Anthony calls out over his shoulder before taking a long sip of his coffee.

“I really don’t.”

Carter looks back and finds Ramiro watching him. He flinches as if he’d been electrocuted and his cheeks flush. Carter smiles, using a free hand to wave.

Ramiro’s responding smile is warm as he waves back.

On the way out, Carter sees a flicker of movement from behind a bookshelf. He does a double-take but dismisses it for the cats Anthony brought up.

Carter must look ridiculous as him and Anthony step out onto the bustling Brooklyn streets, a wild grin splitting his face.

Anthony looks over and laughs. “That’s gay.”

 

* * *

 

Carter comes back the next day.

“This isn’t weird, right? I’m just going to study for my test and maybe get some coffee,” Carter says to Liên as they approach the shop.

“Well, your pining will keep me entertained during my six-hour shift,” she replies. She looks up at him, eyes sparkling, and has to crane her neck from their foot-long height difference, short black hair whipping across her face from the late November winds. It could be comical if Liên’s grin wasn’t so sharp.

Anthony nudges him with his backpack. “You’re gonna thank me at your wedding, right?”

Carter blanches. “We’re— it’s not like that! I just wanna be his friend and stuff, I’m not gonna get all over him. That’s weird and will probably make him uncomfortable.”

“He didn’t seem uncomfortable yesterday when you gave him _fifty bucks_ for coffee that would’ve cost twelve.”

A hand slaps onto Carter’s shoulder. He jumps, turning around to find and Evelyn laughing. Her red-lipped grin is downright sardonic, dark curls shaking along with her shoulders. “You’ve got it so bad.”

Carter shakes his head. “Why am I friends with you?”

“Intro to Ethics class, remember? I saved you from failing.”

“Okay, first off, I wasn’t going to fail. Second, aren’t business ethics different from law ethics?”

Evelyn shrugs but her grin doesn’t lessen. “That professor didn’t know what they were doing, I’m glad they got fired.”

“Ev, you _got_ them fired,” Liên deadpans.

“You supported my decision to report them! They didn’t know what they were talking about and Carter almost failed becau-”

“I _wasn’t going to fail!_ ” Carter shouts, making a passerby stare. He tries to smile apologetically.

“Sheesh, Evelyn,” Anthony says. “You’re ruthless.”

“If I’m paying half a million dollars for an education it better be good- but that’s not the point.” Evelyn turns to Carter. “You’re gonna go in there and talk to Ramiro.”

Carter opens his mouth to protest but Evelyn’s eyes soften. “You deserve it,” she says. “Especially after Nate.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy,” Anthony says. Liên nods.

Carter looks away and watches the steady stream of cars work their way up the avenue. He wraps his coat tighter around him and hopes his shaking isn’t too obvious. It’s just the cold. He’s just cold.

He hates how he gets cold so easily now.

Evelyn’s hand moves down to his bicep and she squeezes it gently. “It’s true.”

Carter doesn’t say anything.

“Hey,” she murmurs. Carter finally looks over and sees her smile gently. “I’ll buy you something from the café, okay? My treat.”

The four of them reach the shop. It’s early afternoon, people trickling back to work or campus after their lunch breaks. Inside there are only a handful of people sitting at the different tables, reading or working on their laptops with coffee cups besides them.

Immediately, a lilting piano medley weaves its way through the shelves. Carter walks towards the sound, not realizing he’s even done it, until out of his peripheral vision, he sees Liên walking towards the bakery counter where a small kid with fluffy, dark curls waves.

He follows the music into a secluded corner of the shop, lit only by a couple of miscellaneous lamps. And there, sitting at a dark wood piano, cats curled in his lap and around his legs, is Ramiro.

The sheer amount of cats is ridiculous, all different shapes and sizes and colors. Carter has no clue where they came from, but clearly they’re familiar with Ramiro, considering the way they’re purring at the volume of a car engine.

Ramiro’s back is partially turned to Carter, loose strands of hair curling around his jaw. Carter can see enough of his face to spot the content smile upturning his lips. There’s a mole on the underside of his jaw. As his fingers move across the piano keys, the lamplight turns the skin of his hands a heavenly bronze, freckles a stark contrast against the rest of him.

The cat resting in Ramiro’s lap, a mix of black, orange and brown, lets out a rumbling purr before rubbing its head against his chest. Ramiro lets out a small laugh, full of pure, unadulterated happiness. Carter finds himself taking a step towards the small scene, towards this bubble of warm contentedness that feels so new yet so familiar to him.

His mind flashes with memories he hasn’t thought about in months: a face splattered with freckles Carter never fully counted, firm arms holding him close, a gentle kiss—

Carter stops. _What am I doing_?

Before Ramiro or any of the cats notice, Carter backs out as quick as he can. His heel smacks into a bookshelf and Ramiro’s hands still. Carter doesn’t stay to watch the reaction from his intrusion, just runs through bookshelf aisles and past the tables and out into the cold, ignoring the familiar calls of his name.

 

* * *

 

“You know, you really don’t deserve to be treated like shit.”

Carter turned to look into deep brown eyes, bright with mirth. Nate’s brow is furrowed but he smiles once their eyes meet.

It was getting late, and Carter really needed to get home so he could feed Marble, but Nate had coaxed him to bed with insistent kisses and tugs at his shirt. Carter couldn’t really ever say no to a hot guy kissing him.

Carter brushes his toes against Nate’s. “What makes you say that?” he murmurs.

“I was just thinking and stuff— like I usually do.”

“I’m pretty sure you aren’t usually thinking with your brain,” Carter snorts, earning a half-hearted shove. But they’re both laughing, and Nate is warm next to him, with his messy hair and splatter of freckles across his face.

“ _Anyway,_ ” Nate continues. The tone in his voice is more grave than jovial, and Carter’s smile fades. “It’s just— like, you deserve to be happy and I know you aren’t happy with where you are in college.”

“It’s not like I can just change my major, Nate.” Carter turns to face the ceiling. His chest starts to constrict, like it does every fucking time someone brings this up.

Nate follows Carter, rolling onto his side and sitting up on his elbow so he can watch Carter’s face. “I know. I get it, I do.”

Carter turns his head and snaps before he can stop himself, “Do you?”

Nate’s family is rich, he knows that. They both went to expensive, elite private schools where ninety nine-percent of the kids attending were white and straight. They both dealt with the constant nannies and phone calls tearing them away from their parents, strained relationships only built on expensive gifts.

But Nate came out in high school. His family accepts it, and they love him no less. Carter’s parents would do nothing but remind Carter that they have a reputation at stake.

Fingertips carefully trace Carter’s cheekbone. He looks over and sees Nate watching him, a sad smile on his face. Carter’s heart aches, not only out of guilt and shame but something more; something that floods his entire body in warmth. Something that tells him that Nate wouldn’t leave him, that he’s different than the rest.

“I understand enough that I know it hurts,” Nate says quietly. “And I don’t want you to be hurting.”

Carter rests his hand over Nate’s and smiles. “I know you don’t. Just know that you help, okay? Because you make me happy.”

There’s a pause, and anxiety starts creeping into Carter’s brain, saying _Why would you tell him that, he hates you, he doesn’t want you_ —

“I love you.” It’s said with a grin, bright and earnest. That _something_ inside Carter bursts again and he finally realizes what it’s been the whole time.

“I— I love you too,” Carter whispers, voice humiliatingly thick. Nonetheless, Nate laughs and kisses him. Carter cups his face and pulls him closer, never wanting to let go.

 

* * *

 

If hell were to freeze over, it would be New York in December. Everywhere there’s patches of ice and Carter has witnessed multiple people slip and fall, even in the middle of a crosswalk. On the curbs snow has melted into gross, gray slush that seeps through Carter’s shoes and gets his socks soaking wet.

(It could be worth it since some of Carter’s classes have been cancelled due to the weather, but finals are approaching faster than he would prefer and he needs all the help he can get.)

Ten o’clock on a Saturday night is no exception. The snowfall is light, but picking up in speed and Carter shivers in his fairly thin coat as he walks to the subway station to get home. Going out was the worst idea he’s ever had, and he’s made hundreds of poor decisions.

At the end of every semester the law department has a huge, formal dinner where everyone drinks champagne and talks about taxes or whatever dedicated law nerds talk about. Carter always stays by the chocolate fountain his ethics professor brings and gracelessly stuffs his face with chocolate-covered marshmallows while getting tipsy enough he can look less obvious when he’s having an anxiety attack the whole damn night.

Suddenly, Carter hears distant, scared whines and he stops right in his tracks.

It echoes from a nearby alleyway that overflows with trash from the nearby stores and restaurants. From a yard away Carter can tell that the dumpsters haven’t been emptied in probably six months.

But there’s _something_ scratching the inside of one of the dumpsters and Carter hesitates. The train that goes back to Brooklyn was supposed to arrive at the station in twenty minutes, the last time Carter checked the time and it doesn’t come back for another hour. And Carter has an early study group tomorrow morning.

The animal lets out another cry for help. Carter mutters, “Goddammit.”

He wraps his coat tighter around himself and runs towards the alleyway, jumping over patches of ice. He knows he probably looks ridiculous and really hopes someone isn’t recording him from inside the warm comfort of whatever store they’re in.

The alley smells truly horrible, oddly sweet but full of rotting food. Carter gags despite himself and the animal inside the dumpster lets out another helpless noise.

“It’s okay, I’m coming to get you,” Carter calls out as he approaches the dumpster. Something beneath his foot squelches. He really wants to vomit.

He reaches the dumpster and looks in. A pair of green eyes stare back at him. Inside, perched on a pile of cardboard, is a small kitten. It shivers in the cold, soaking wet from the snow and covered in mud. It lets out a broken meow.

“Oh, _baby,_ ” Carter whispers, voice breaking. He’ll admit it, he cries at the sight of cute animals and this kitten is doing the cat form of puppy eyes.

Carter reaches in and the kitten immediately backs into a corner, the hair on its back bristling.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he says gently. “I’m not gonna hurt you. C’mon, come here.”

He lays his palm out flat, waiting patiently as the kitten approaches his fingers and smells them. It hesitates, then presses its cheek into his palm. Carter looks up at the sky and forces fresh tears back into his eyes. Still, he sighs wetly.

Carter scoops up the kitten and it squirms in his grip, meowing over and over again. He shushes it, petting its head with his thumb. The kitten looks at him and lets out a questioning meow.

“I’m getting you out of here, buddy,” Carter whispers.

_But where will he take it and oh my God, he didn’t think this through._

Carter can’t take this cat home. Marble probably hates cats because, duh, she’s a dog. He doesn’t know of any nearby animal shelters and all the vet clinics are closed. But he can’t get this cat’s hopes up then leave it like some douchebag did— in a dumpster, no less.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Carter mutters, bouncing in the middle of an alley. The snow is starting to pick up. He has to get inside.

His mind jumps to Ramiro. Kind, handsome, perfect Ramiro with those eyes and freckles and charming smile and— wait. _Ramiro has cats._

Carter looks down at the cat currently nestled against his chest. Ramiro would know what to do.

“Okay,” he starts, and pulls the kitten up to eye-level. “You’re gonna go to Ramiro and he’ll take care of you. He’s super awesome and has a lot of friends for you to play with. We’ll take the train to Brooklyn and we’ll go to the café and Ramiro will be like, ‘Oh, you brought me a cat!’ and I’ll be like ‘Yes, I did, because I’m a cool guy,’ and everything will be good! Does that sound good with you?”

The cat meows. Carter nods firmly.

“Operation Kitty Rescue is a go.”

He tucks the kitten inside his coat and treks back out onto the sidewalk. The station is closer than Carter expected, thank God, and once he’s sitting on a train heading to Brooklyn he realizes he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. People are staring at the small, smelly kitten head peeking out of Carter’s jacket and he’s taking said kitten to a guy he’s only talked to once. Ramiro might say no to this random cat Carter is bringing him. Some security person could confiscate the cat and take it to a shelter where it’ll probably get euthanized because animal shelters in New York City _suck_.

He probably looks crazy.

But the cat shifts in Carter’s arms, tucking in against his chest and yawning. It blinks sleepily.

_I can’t abandon this cat._

So Carter strokes the top of its head until it falls asleep and waits for his stop to be called over the intercoms.

 

* * *

 

Questions Carter Schaefer asks himself while standing in front of Lyceum Café at night in the middle of a snowstorm: _Why do I make such poor life decisions? Am I gonna fail my finals? Why the literal fuck did I assume Ramiro lived here?_

He knows only one answer to those three questions. Yes, he is definitely going to fail his finals.

The kitten lets out a muffled meow from where it’s hidden in Carter’s jacket right as Carter sighs. He starts to look at the sky to ask God why he was created just so he could be a fucking idiot, when his gaze catches on light seeping through a window. It’s above the shop, and when Carter squints there’s a cat perching on the windowsill, staring down at Carter. He immediately recognizes it as one of Ramiro’s cats.

“Oh _thank God,_ ” Carter breathes out.

Next to the shop windows is another door, beaten down by time and wind into a pale green. There’s a doorbell above a mail slot and Carter squats to read the piece of paper by the slot. _Ramiro Martinez._

“Hell _yes!_ ” Carter shouts, punching the air. The kitten wiggles its head out to stare at Carter and Carter murmurs a quick apology.

He rings the doorbell and the cat on the window sill jumps out of view, as if to send a message to Ramiro that there’s a fucking idiot with a cat outside his door. An idiot who ran out of the shop because of a huge, gay crush.

Carter has decided that the universe is truly homophobic.

He hears someone descending down a set of creaky stairs and before his anxiety can make him bolt down the street, the door opens. Ramiro stands there in a worn down flannel, t-shirt and pajama pants, glasses perched on his head. The warm light of the stairwell makes him look like an angel, bathed in gold. Carter’s heart stops for a solid second.

“Hello?” Ramiro says slowly and Carter snaps out of his reverie.

“Hi! Hi. I don’t know if you remember me but I came in a couple weeks ago with Anthony and I paid you, like, a lot of money for coffee? Anyway I found a cat and I didn’t know what to do because I have a dog and for some reason I thought you could help? I’m sorry.”

Silence. Carter clears his throat awkwardly and looks at his feet.

“Come on in,” Ramiro says suddenly.

Carter’s head snaps up. “Really?”

Ramiro pulls his glasses off his head and pushes them up the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger. Carter feels his face flush, and even deeper when Ramiro smiles.

“Yeah, of course! It’s cold outside, and you look like you’re freezing.”

“I’m not sure I can feel my feet,” Carter admits.

Ramiro’s face spasms into pure horror. “Okay,” he rushes out. “We’re getting you inside right now, please don’t die on me.”

The stairwell is narrow, so Carter follows behind Ramiro. A rush of heat flows over him and Carter sighs. Ramiro looks back at him, giving him a pitying smile.

Something brushes against his feet and Carter looks down to find one of the cats staring up at him. It’s black and has a corner of its ear missing, along with a scar stretching across its nose. Carter is watched by green eyes full of intimidating intensity.

“That’s Earl,” Ramiro explains. “He’s kind of the guard cat? And mysterious as hell; he has a tragic backstory he doesn’t like to talk about.”

Carter pauses. “He can talk?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Ramiro replies. Carter can see his blush in the fluorescent light. “It’s more like, uh, body language? He, like, stiffens up whenever I call him my warrior cat. He- he prefers Burly Early.”

Carter is pretty sure he’s in love with this guy, weird nicknames and all.

“Well, hey, Burly Early,” Carter says. He gets a flicker of a tail in response, and Earl’s eyes seem to narrow at him.

Ramiro laughs, “Don’t take it personally. He’s just not used to strangers.”

“I probably smell like my dog, too.”

Ramiro’s eyes light up and a smile curves onto his lips. “What kind of dog do you have?”

Carter’s eyes flicker back to Ramiro’s from where he was not-so-obviously watching Ramiro’s mouth. “An Australian Shepherd. She’s four.”

Ramiro laughs again. “Well, hopefully the cats don’t hate you too much for it.”

Carter had been so lost in him he hadn’t realized they were at the top of the stairwell already. The real world comes rushing back to him, and he remembers that he’s literally about to go into Ramiro’s apartment. It’s intimate, _way_ too intimate for two strangers who have been talking for five minutes at most. But before Carter can protest, Ramiro opens the door.

The apartment is surprisingly spacious for being above a small bookstore; most college students in New York can only afford cramped ones with shitty plumbing and mold. There are lots of lamps and candles, giving it a homey feel. Everything is worn down, sure, but it’s been lovingly used. Plants are tucked into corners and hung from the ceiling by the window in wicker baskets.

Then there are the cats. They’ve sprawled themselves out across the living room, resting on the floor, couch or cat trees. At the sight of Carter and Ramiro, their heads perk up and stare, making Carter shift nervously.

Ramiro says, “Hi, kitties,” in a warm, fond voice and the tension melts.

The first cat to approach them is a light gray one with darker stripes and gray eyes. They try to sprint out between Ramiro’s legs. Ramiro quickly intercepts them and scoops them up.

“Oh, no you don’t, Artemis,” he chides, getting a protesting meow in response. Ramiro tucks her against his chest and strokes her head. Artemis pouts but doesn’t squirm away.

Something squirms inside Carter’s jacket, and the kitten sticks its head out with a trilling noise. It cocks its head to the side, blinking curiously.

Ramiro’s face crumples at the sight. “Oh my goodness, look at you,” he sighs happily, setting Artemis down on the floor.

The kitten squirms out of Carter’s grip and outright jumps into Ramiro’s arms. A small twinge of jealousy makes Carter’s chest tighten, but Ramiro’s fond expression makes it worth it. He rubs the kitten’s cheek, laughing when the kitten purrs so loud it’s almost like a vibration.

“I found it in a dumpster,” Carter blurts out.

Ramiro looks up at him, warm fondness not fading from his face. Carter’s heart stops for a second. “Was it alone?”

Carter nods silently. He knows if he opens his mouth he’ll say something like, “Will you marry me?”

Ramiro’s brow furrows and his smile starts to turn downwards. He looks back down at the kitten. “Who would leave such a cute thing like you? We’ll get you cleaned up and some food in your tummy, okay?”

Their eyes meet again. “Would you like something to drink?” Ramiro asks.

Carter’s voice is strangled when he replies, “Oh, uh-”

“I just know it’s cold out and, y’know, you must be freezing.” Ramiro looks back down.

“I don’t want to be a bother or anything, and it’s late-”

“You’re not a bother!” Ramiro interjects. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

Carter doesn’t find himself hesitating. “I guess I can stay a bit longer.”

Ramiro smiles. “Is hot chocolate okay?”

“That’s awesome, thanks.”

Ramiro’s eyes linger on him and Carter tries not to think too much about it as he sits down on the couch. Immediately, a cat jumps up to him. They have one green, one blue eye and look like a tabby, with orange and white fur with splashes of brown. Carter sticks his palm out in greeting and the cat falls right into it, cheek rubbing against his skin. He can feel it purring.

“Well, hey there—” Carter glances at the collar around its neck. “Dottie. That’s a cute name.”

Earl climbs onto an arm of the couch closest to Dottie and watches, eyes alert. But there’s almost a sort of warmth in them that Carter didn’t expect from a cat. He’s always thought of cats as aloof and distant, not as affectionate or loving. Earl seems to be proving him wrong.

A split second later a mass of white tackles Dottie, pushing her out of the way. The fluffball places itself in Carter’s lap and looks up at him with icy blue eyes. It meows, as if to say, _What’re you waiting for? Pet me, asshole._

Dottie brushes it off and settles by Carter’s thigh, resting on her side. Earl joins her, glaring at the cat resting in Carter’s lap.

“That was a dick move, dude,” Carter says. He checks its collar and— yep, Augustus is a dude.

Augustus just butts his head against Carter’s gut.

“No, I’m not gonna pet you. You pushed Dottie over! She could’ve fallen!”

Ramiro suddenly speaks up. “Oh, Gus? He always wants attention.”

Carter looks up and finds Ramiro balancing two cups in his hand and the kitten, wrapped in a towel. It lets out a pleased meow.

Ramiro hands him one cup and settles on the other end of the couch, crossing his legs. The kitten squirms out of the towel and its dark fur poofs out, free of the muck it had rolled in inside the dumpster. Black stripes cross its cheeks and spine, and its fur sticks up in every direction.

Earl’s head perks up at the sight of the kitten and he leans his head towards it, sniffing. The kitten seizes the opportunity to whack Earl in the face.

Carter gasps despite himself, expecting Earl to fight back. Instead, he just stares until the kitten sits by his face and licks him apologetically.

“Wow,” Carter says. “Earl has mojo.”

Ramiro laughs. “He’s got his ways.”

After witnessing the kitten’s submission to Earl, more cats approach. One huge, lumpy cat runs face-first into the couch in an attempt to jump up, so Ramiro has to help him (“Moose is blind in one eye,” he explains. “He’s just trying his best”). Another tabby with green eyes wakes up from her nap to sniff at the kitten before walking away, unimpressed.

Ramiro says that she’s always that way. “Dottie is the more outgoing of the twins.”

“They’re twins?” Carter replies, surprised.

“Yeah. Opie seems all nonchalant, but she loves her sister.”

Carter hums in response as he watches a Siamese slink across the floor so low that her stomach brushes the floor. Her eyes are trained on the kitten, squinting. Carter expects her to pounce, but the kitten catches her so she resigns herself to sitting at the base of the couch, assessing.

“You have a lot of cats,” Carter says.

Ramiro shrugs. “It’s only seven. I know people who have, like, fifteen. My _abuela_ ’s friend basically hoards them; she’s a great pet owner but I could never be like that. I just find strays and take them in. Earl is the first one I found. One night I heard a cat fight while I was checking the mail and he got hurt, and naturally I didn’t want to leave him. So he stayed with me for the night, then I took him to the vet to get patched up and I just… fell in love with him? He has a big heart, he’s just been through a lot. And, like, I don’t keep all the cats I find. I put them up for adoption. and every college kid wants a cat, y’know? I just help cats find their forever homes.”

“Why?”

It’s a bland question to ask, but Carter has to. He always wants to help, but he couldn’t raise this many animals by himself.

Ramiro looks up from where the cats have all piled up on each other and fallen asleep. Even Augustus, perched on top like some regal king, is snoozing away. There’s an intensity in Ramiro’s eyes, that same fire Carter saw the first time he met him.

“Because everyone deserves a second chance.”

 

* * *

 

Carter doesn’t tell anyone what happened. It’s not like he has time to, with finals determined to destroy him and leaving everyone about to lose their minds. So, really, the time isn’t right for Carter to randomly say, “Hey, you remember Ramiro? Yeah, I found a stray cat and took it to his apartment and we hung out. Am I developing more feelings for him? Probably, but I don’t want to let myself think about it!”

In reality, with every spare moment he has, Carter thinks about it. About Ramiro, about his fiery passion and love for his cats, about his warm apartment, about the kitten Carter so thoughtlessly put into Ramiro’s care. How Ramiro took it in with no questions asked. How Carter trusted him when only knowing of his existence for less than a month.

It’s ridiculous, Carter knows. He would do it again in a heartbeat, but he didn’t expect for what happened to linger in his mind so insistently.

Carter has himself figured out well enough to know he’s, at heart, a kind person. He wants to be nice to everyone, to be able to leave off a good impression. Maybe it’s his parents rubbing off on him in that regard.

He also knows that he gets attached easily. He was drawn into Nate and automatically thought he was the love of Carter’s life. He excused it with true love or some shit, finding your soulmate or whatever.

And look where that got him.

Ramiro deserves way better than Carter’s over-emotional, sensitive self. The best thing he can do is keep himself at arm’s length and hope that the kitten is doing well.

 

* * *

 

It’s the week of finals, and Carter is sitting in the library trying to cram for a Political History exam when Liên looks up from her phone and states, “Ramiro’s been asking about you.”

Carter’s blood turns to ice as Anthony nearly keels out of his seat, choking out a loud enough noise that he earns the dagger-like glares from multiple people. Carter looks up to find Evelyn staring at him with a faux expression of coolness.

“Oh, really?” she asks.

“I knew it!” Anthony stage-whispers, half leaning over the table in his sheer eagerness.

Liên, phone still in her hand, patiently watches Carter. “Care to share with the class why he would be asking about you every day for the past two weeks?”

Carter sets down his highlighter, making sure it presses right against the edge of his notebook. When he looks up, he clears his throat. “I may have found a stray cat and took it to Ramiro.”

Silence.

Finally Evelyn scrubs a hand down her face. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Carter, you know you flirt through good Samaritan actions, right?” Anthony asks. “First fifty bucks then rescuing a cat off the street? At this rate you’ll be in love with him tomorrow.”

Liên simply nods. “That explains a lot.”

“What? Explains what?” Carter demands. Evelyn snorts.

“Well,” Liên starts, stirring her coffee. “Ramiro’s been sneaky lately. He keeps randomly leaving and doesn’t tell us why. He’s buying more cat toys which he only does when he’s stressed or there’s a new cat. Honestly I thought the first. It does explains the bulge in his jacket, though.”

“Oh.”

“So when are you going back?” Evelyn asks.

Carter looks back up. “What?”

“You have to go back,” she elaborates. “Talk to him.”

Anthony interjects, “You can’t abandon your kid, dude. Ramiro can’t single parent this shit.”

“I’m not a _parent_ —”

“This isn’t about the damn cat!” Evelyn interrupts. She glares at Carter, and something must flicker across his face because her expression softens. “We talked about this.”

“I don’t want to talk about it again,” Carter says. He already made his choice, he can’t let himself—

“He wants to see you. Isn’t that enough?”

“But not in _that_ way.”

“Listen, dude,” Anthony says. “Everyone in that shop is hot. Even Levi has a thing for Kai.”

For emphasis, he points across the study area of the library to one small table. There sits Levi, a small freshman with messy curls pulled back into a high ponytail. He’s eagerly talking to a barista Carter saw last time he came to the bookstore, who listens with a bright smile. Their knees brush from under the table.

Carter lets out an aggravated sigh and buries his head in his hands.

“Look, if you go see Ramiro, I’ll talk to Chisato. Or something.” Carter peeks through his fingers and sees Evelyn’s scarlet blush. She fiddles with the pearl bracelet around her wrist.

 

“Ramiro likes you,” Liên says. “So I think you should go see him. It’d make him really happy.”

“And he needs to be happy,” Anthony adds, uncharacteristically serious.

“You do too,” Evelyn says. Carter looks up fully. She smiles.

_Because everyone deserves a second chance._

Carter sighs. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it— but _after_ finals. I’ve already been super stressed out about this!”

Liên tells Evelyn, “They’re in love.”

Carter tries to smack her in the arm, but misses terribly. The resulting laugh earns more glares from people in the library, but Carter can’t really find it in him to care.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Carter hands in his last final, he runs out of the classroom messily throwing on his coat and stepping outside in what feels like the first time in forever. He doesn’t have to shuttle back and forth between his classes, the library and his apartment. He’s free.

It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

The buzz seems to have spread to everyone else as he rides the subway train to Brooklyn, students eagerly chatting about their plans over break. The infectious energy has Carter’s knee anxiously bouncing up and down despite itself.

He hopes Ramiro won’t be mad that he’s been gone for so long, or weirded out that he’s showing up to check up on the cat he unceremoniously dumped onto him.

Carter does miss the cat, a lot. He misses Ramiro, a lot.

Liên was right. He’s so screwed.

It makes him walk a bit faster down the bustling, snow-ridden streets and weave his way through the crowds. At the shop there’s Christmas lights hung up around the windows and a shockingly well-drawn message wishing everyone a happy holiday.

On one of the display shelves Earl is curled up behind a book, seemingly asleep. He senses Carter approaching and he lifts his head at the same moment Carter’s hand wraps around the doorknob. They stare at each other for a moment before Earl goes back to sleep.

“I hope that’s approval,” Carter tells him before opening the door, earning a soft jingle.

There’s only a handful of people at the café cramming for their last exams, chugging cup after cup of coffee. Carter sees Moose resting in a chair across from one particularly stressed-looking person, hair a pure rat’s nest and shadows under their eyes turning purple. But right at the moment Carter is watching, Moose looks up at them and lets out a long, rumbling purr before settling back down. It elicits a smile from the person and just for a moment they seem less like they’re dying.

From across the café, Chisato calls, “Hey, Carter!”

She’s standing on a chair wrapping silver tinsel around the counter, wearing a gaudy Christmas sweater and hair pulled up into an elaborate braid around her head. When they both make eye contact, she smirks.

“Are you looking for someone in particular?” Chisato asks, voice dripping in well-intended malice.

“I mean,” Carter replies. “Yeah, I am. But more importantly, how’s Evelyn doing?”

The resulting blush and spluttering earns laughter from multiple people in the area. Chisato turns her head away in embarrassment, hiding her face behind the loose strands of hair, but not before flipping Carter off.

Over the Christmas music playing on the speakers, Carter almost doesn’t hear the familiar piano tune blending itself in with the other sounds of the shop. He takes one more glance at Chisato, who is already watching. She nods and gives him a quick smile.

Carter feels his hands tremor as he walks through the aisles of books. Last time he was here he made a total fool of himself, bruising his heel on his rush to get out in his self-induced panic attack.

He can’t turn away from this. Ramiro wants to see him. He has a cat to check up on.

“How is this my life,” Carter murmurs as Ramiro enters his line of sight. Immediately, his stomach does a complicated flip on itself and he becomes painfully aware of the fact that he probably looks like shit.

But Ramiro, he looks… _gorgeous._ He’s wearing a deep blue sweater with a flannel layered underneath, hair pulled up into his signature messy bun. Carter can see himself in the edge of the reflection in Ramiro’s glasses.

Ramiro’s shoulders are comfortably slouched over as he plays a vaguely familiar melody, something that’s probably played at the banquets Carter has had to go to with his parents back home. There’s a few cats in his lap, another resting on top of the piano, and the rest of them are sprawled on the floor. Augustus raises a lazy, almost sultry head up to look at Carter before rolling onto his side, displaying his stomach in an attempt to get Carter to come over and pet him.

A familiar head perks up, and Carter meets the bright green gaze of his cat. It automatically recognizes him and rips itself out of Ramiro’s arm. The distance it jumps is, quite frankly, shocking, and it takes less than ten seconds for the cat to be at Carter’s feet, meowing incessantly.

The action makes Ramiro turn and Carter catches his easy smile before Ramiro processes it’s him. At the sight of Carter, Ramiro’s face blanches. The piano makes an ungodly noise as his hands reflexively slam down on the keys.

“Carter!” Ramiro near-shouts. It sends the cats into multiple directions.

The amount of heat Carter can feel radiating from his face is astounding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He winces as the cat’s nails dig into his skin, climbing up his pant legs in an attempt to reach his arms.

Ramiro lets out a breathless laugh. “No, no, it’s okay. Liên told me you were coming soon, I just, uh, didn’t know when.”

Carter almost says, _I would’ve told you_ , but then he realizes that he doesn’t have any way to contact Ramiro outside of this. He doesn’t let himself entertain the possibility of otherwise, just replies, “Sorry.”

For a moment, Ramiro just studies him as the cat keeps up its painful ascent up Carter’s jeans. Finally Carter caves and picks it up, earning a highly pleased trill. The cat tucks itself into his arms, resting its cheek against his chest and purring so loudly Carter can feel the vibrations.

Ramiro laughs, “She really missed you.”

Carter’s head snaps up from where he was petting the cat’s head. “She?”

Ramiro nods. “I took her to the vet last week for a check-up and the doctor said she’s a girl. She’s about nine weeks old and somewhere around two pounds. But that was last week and I’ve made sure to feed her a lot.”

Something warms inside Carter’s chest, and he looks at the cat. She peers back at him, purrs rumbling against his chest and he feels a lump form in his throat. He tries his best to clear it away before looking back at Ramiro and managing, “Thank you. I mean it.”

Ramiro’s smile is soft. “I should be thanking you. What you did, it was very sweet.”

Carter shrugs. His stomach hasn’t stopped flipping itself around. “It’s what everyone should do, y’know? I don’t think I would ever forgive myself if I just left her.”

He clears his throat again. Ramiro’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest, but he seems to recognize Carter’s sudden discomfort.

“Um, how was finals? Liên told me you were really stressed,” he says.

The muscles in Carter’s shoulders loosen. He musters a smile, and it must seem forced because Ramiro laughs. His nose crinkles in the most adorable way possible and his left eye squints shut as he tilts his head.

“Pretty bad?”

“Honestly?” Carter replies. “Could’ve been so much worse, but, yeah, it sucked.”

“What’s your major?”

“Um, it’s… law.”

Ramiro’s eyebrows raise. “That’s really cool.”

Carter shrugs. “I don’t really enjoy it, but that’s just how it has to be, I guess.”

Before Ramiro can reply, Carter sits down on the floor as carefully as possible without dropping the cat. By this point the others have come back after realizing there’s no threat, and Moose stumbles over to sit against Carter’s back. Dottie follows suit, nestling in the curve of the inside of Carter’s calf. He feels the cat in his arms bristle a little but after some petting she settles.

“Do you go to college?” Carter asks carefully, and inwardly winces.

Thankfully, Ramiro snorts as he scratches underneath Opal’s chin. Below his piano bench, Augustus bats at one of the legs of it. “Not at all.”

“Do you not like it?”

“No, I, uh, just can’t afford it. I’m kind of poor, if you couldn’t tell.” Ramiro lets out a self-deprecating laugh, so different from the ones Carter has heard that it startles him a bit. Ramiro’s smile is bitter, eyes distant and Carter doesn’t want to see that expression ever again.

“I went to Pratt for a year with Isaac,” Ramiro explains, jerking his head towards the café counter. Carter peeks through the aisles and sees him, a dark, bright-eyed guy around his age with Chisato. They’re both talking to Anthony, Isaac practically draped across the counter.

Ramiro continues, “I, um, majored in illustration, but I was headed towards a double major in music, too. But, like, it was really expensive and my family isn’t that rich. So I got a job here, now here I am.”

For emphasis he gestures at himself as best he can with Dottie in his lap. Carter notices how his mouth is slightly turned downwards, the stiffness in his movements.

“So you like art?” he asks gently.

Ramiro nods, albeit shyly. “I’ve always been into it, I guess. I sang in the choir at my _abuela’s_ church and back in Pennsylvania I did a ton of theatre. I really, uh, like acting but I love music and drawing? I learned how to play the piano when I was really little and, um, I’ve always drawn. I like poetry, too. I write it sometimes when I’m not busy here.”

 _Holy shit, I have a crush on a genius._ Carter decides right then and there that Ramiro is hopelessly out of his league.

Ramiro notices Carter’s silence and blushes. He ducks his head down bashfully and mumbles, “Yeah.”

“Do you even realize how cool you are?” Carter blurts out. “Like, seriously, you can do all this different stuff and you’re good at it! That’s badass as fuck! You’re the most badass dude I’ve ever met!”

Ramiro’s face turns impossibly redder right as Carter realizes what he said. “I didn’t mean to come off so strongly, I’m sorry- I just get excited-”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ramiro interjects. “I, um, appreciate it. Really.”

“You’re just really cool,” Carter admits. _God, I’m so gay._

Ramiro smiles. Carter can’t get enough of it. “I think you’re cool, too.”

“I promise I’m just a really big loser.”

“Oh, same. I’m a crazy cat dude, remember?”

Carter laughs, “I guess I’m one, too, then.”

Their eyes lock and linger. Carter feels overwhelmingly warm, about to bubble over from how effortlessly _good_ this feels. His ass is starting to get sore from sitting on the hard floor for so long and his leg is starting to fall asleep but he hasn’t felt this happy in a long, long time. Carter usually has to watch what he says around people so he doesn’t come across as weird, or loud, or dumb or anything his parents would frown upon. But now, in the shop, in this moment with Ramiro, he doesn’t really have to worry.

Carter opens his mouth to speak, but Chisato’s voice rings through and the bubble shatters. “We’ve got a bunch of book donations!”

Ramiro flinches to the point that Dottie leaps out of his lap, and Carter looks away. He’s getting attached again.

He starts to spiral into some pathetic, self-hatred meltdown about how he’s stupid and emotional and doesn’t deserve to have friends or a boyfriend, then Ramiro asks, “Do you, um, maybe wanna help me? If you want? You don’t have to, but I thought I’d— offer or something. Sorry.”

A voice suspiciously like Liên’s rings in his head, _He wants to see you._

“That’d be cool,” Carter says and Ramiro _beams._

“It’s super boring,” he explains as he stands up, carefully stepping around Augustus and Moose. The cats, all at once, start to stretch and stand up. Carter’s cat looks at him expectantly as if to ask if he’s coming too.

“You’re like the guy version of Snow White,” Carter says as he stands up and follows Ramiro. “Sludge White.”

Ramiro squints at him from behind his glasses, but there’s a smile forming. “Sludge?”

“Yeah, you know how on the sidewalks there’s just that gross, mushy shit from all the people walking and all the cars?”

“Are you calling me gross?”

Carter blanches. “No! Oh my God, no! Holy shit, I’m sorry—”

“I was joking,” Ramiro rushes out.

Carter lets out a sigh of relief. “You sounded totally serious and I felt so bad, dude, oh my God.”

Ramiro’s smile turns a bit sharper. “Chisato tells me I’m kind of bad at sarcasm.”

Chisato, from where she’s at the cashier counter, laughs. “Really bad. We’re trying to work on it.”

“I’m sarcastic about ninety-eight percent of the time,” Ramiro says. “I feel like that’s important to know about me.”

Carter nods. “Understandable.”

While Ramiro turns his attention to the rather large, banged-up pile of books on the counter Chisato mutters, “I know something Carter is one hundred-percent of the time.”

She looks at Carter and winks. Carter mouths, _Fuck you_.

Ramiro, seemingly, doesn’t notice a single thing because he says, “I’m gonna divide these into sections and you can look through them to see if they’re in good shape, okay?” He looks up at Carter, eyebrow arched.

Carter’s head bobs up and down so quickly he almost gets whiplash. “Got it.”

“Is Carter staying forever?” Anthony calls from the seating area of the café. Isaac just waves at the three of them from where he’s sitting across from Anthony. Their hands are suspiciously close.

Ramiro cocks out his hip and turns to Anthony. “Are you distracting one of my employees?”

Anthony scoffs and gestures at the shop. “There is no one in here!”

“There’s always something to do, _pendejo_. Stop flirting, get working.” Ramiro snaps his fingers for emphasis.

Isaac blushes and hurries back to the café counter while Anthony sulks at his table.

“You’re a hypocrite,” he pouts, bottom lip sticking out pathetically.

Ramiro simply hums as he sorts through the pile, passing them into the separate piles he’s created in front of Carter. Carter watches him for a moment, knowing he’s grinning like an idiot.

He doesn’t know how long they spend working their way through the books, but his neck hurts from looking down for so long and he really needs to use the restroom. Like, right now.

They stop once the cats start incessantly meowing and pushing small objects off the counters, upset that they aren’t getting the attention they want. Chisato and Isaac are closing up the café, putting up the chairs onto the tables and mopping. Anthony scrolls through his phone looking like he’s about to face-plant onto the table any second.

Ramiro lets out a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. He looks over at Carter, blinking sleepily. “What time is it?”

Carter takes a solid thirty seconds to process his question. When he does, he fumbles for his phone in his pocket, muttering at himself. “Almost nine.”

Ramiro says, “That really went by super fast.”

“We were in the zone.”

Ramiro snorts. “For once in my life.”

The cat hops up into Carter’s lap, or at least tries to. She falls short about three inches, face crashing into his thigh but her claws dig into the denim of Carter’s jeans and crawling the rest of the way up. Once in her destination, she kneads into a rather uncomfortable spot before settling down.

“I’m not even mad that you felt up my crotch,” Carter says dryly.

“It’s even worse when they wake you up at 2am because they’re digging their paws into your gut,” Ramiro retorts darkly. “Or they want to walk across your face.”

“Marble needs to pee, like, three times a night-” Carter stops. His blood turns cold. “Oh my God, I abandoned my dog. She’s probably starving. I’m the worst dad ever- _Anthony, get up, Marble probably peed on the floor_.”

Anthony nearly falls out of his seat. “You will clean it up,” he slurs.

Carter nearly forgets to pick up the cat, but he sets her on the counter as gently as possible. She meows in protest and he says, “I know, I’m sorry, I’ll come back—”

A lightbulb goes off in his head. Before he can doubt himself, he turns to Ramiro and blurts out, “Can I give you my number?”

Ramiro blinks. “I— um— I mean, uh, sure?” He gracelessly hands over his phone, already unlocked, and Carter furiously types in his number. He will definitely scream to himself about this later.

“Thanks,” he says, sliding on his coat and backpack. “I’m sorry, I just really have to go—”

Ramiro waves him off. “It’s okay, I get it. I’ll text you?”

Carter nods, smiles as a goodbye and drags Anthony into the grueling December cold. It’s fairly empty at nine o’clock in Brooklyn, but snow is flurrying down in a mass and Carter nearly slips on ice about five times on his way to the subway station.

Him and Anthony huddle together for warmth on the train ride back, which they nearly missed but squeezed themselves through the doors right as they were closing. Anthony, somehow, is still half-asleep as he rests his head on Carter’s shoulder. He mumbles about coffee and cats and Ramiro’s stupid face and Isaac’s ass and it makes the, quite frankly, disgusting weather worth it.

When he opens the door to his apartment, Marble is already there jumping into Carter’s face and barking. He crouches down to hug her, saying, “I know I’m the worst, I’m sorry, I will give you extra treats after dinner.”

Anthony simply stumbles to his room and unceremoniously slams the door behind him. Carter knows he’s going to fall face-first into his bed and be out until noon at the earliest.

Marble licks his face to bring him back to the moment, and Carter grabs her leash to take her outside. Thankfully she’s quick, and he sits at the kitchen counter to watch her eat. Periodically he feeds her a treat and realizes how fucking tired he is.

“Are you ready for bed, Marbs?” he asks in his most high-pitched, honey-sweet voice possible.

She looks up over her bowl as if to ask, _Really?_

But eventually she follows him to his room, curls against his chest under the blankets. It’s a familiar practice, not only out of affection but because their heater sucks and Carter is just naturally cold. He hates the winter.

From his nightstand, his phone chimes. Marble lifts her head right as Carter does. He blindly reaches for it, squinting against the harsh light emitting from his phone. Spots blotch across his vision until he can turn down the brightness.

“Oh, _fuck._ ”

There’s a text message from an unfamiliar number, not even in the New York area code, but Carter knows immediately who it is.

_[10:34pm]Hey, it’s Ramiro. I just wanted to say thanks for coming today and making the kitty really happy. She won’t stop wailing for you._

Following it is a picture of the cat, Carter’s cat, sitting on the windowsill. She’s looking at the camera as if to ask, _Where is he?_

Carter lets his phone fall to the side as he sighs at the ceiling. Marble settles her head against his chest like she does every time he gets upset. He scratches behind her ears, murmuring, “I’m not sad— well, kind of.”

He’s happy. Warm. Content. Looking forward to something for the first time in a really long time that isn’t when the next school break is.

But he knows how this goes. He lets his brain romanticize the person he’s into and convinces himself it’s really something more than a small crush. Everything is lovely and bright then it isn’t, just like that.

Carter knows where that heartbreak got him before. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to get out of that hole again. And that scares him.

“I met a boy,” he whispers to Marble. “His name’s Ramiro and he’s really nice. He went to Pratt and he’s a genius; like, way out of my league. But he let me give him my number and he looks at me like he cares.”

Another chime, this time from Chisato.

 _Chisato  
_ _[10:40pm]Please tell me you’re going to see Ramiro again. I don’t think I’ve seen him that happy to sort through books in a long, long time. :-)_

Carter groans. “I don’t know what to do, Marbs. I really like him. What if he’s different than— you know?”

Marble lets out a huff against his chest.

“I know, but I just can’t let it go.”

She turns her head and looks up at him. Her one blue eye pierces through the dark, staring at him expectantly.

“Maybe it’s okay to try it out? I mean, we aren’t really friends yet? I think we could be. That’d be okay, right?”

She blinks.

“Blink once if you think yes.”

She blinks again. Carter stares back before laying his head on the pillow defeatedly. “I’m getting romance advice from my dog.”

Marble lets out a huff and it sounds almost offended. Carter pets her back and murmurs, “You’re pretty great, though.”

Carter lets himself sit in silence for a moment. He hates being so in tune with his emotions. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t have to go through the process of picking out adjectives for the hurricane of emotions hurdling its way through his brain, understanding why they’re there and figuring out what to do about them. But he knows he has to because that’s what his therapist told him to do with stuff like this.

 _Maybe I don’t have to do that all the time_.

It’s a concept Carter hasn’t let himself think about, really, but maybe he should try it.

“Well, fuck it, right?” Carter says to Marble before picking up his phone.

_Ramiro  
[10:42pm]Hey! Thanks for having me, it was fun. Good night! _

_Chisato  
_ _[10:43pm]He makes me happy too._

 

* * *

 

“I know it’s not ideal,” Carter’s mom says as she puts on her winter coat. Her gold earrings jingle with the movement, flashing in the bright light of the foyer. “But it’s just how it has to be.”

Carter shrugs. “I never really liked them that much anyway.”

His mom peeks up the stairs to where his dad is fixing the collar of his sweater. For such a tall, broad-shouldered man it seems like a humble action, but Carter knows from personal experience that if he showed up at his grandma’s house with a single thing out of place he would be the subject of ridicule the whole day.

Carter’s mom turns back to him. “I don’t really either.”

The resulting smile on Carter’s face aches with how forced it is. His mom doesn’t seem to notice, just calls out, “Stephen, we’re going to be late.”

His dad adjusts his tie then nods. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, a heavy hand clasps Carter’s shoulder. Carter looks up and meets a gentle gaze that seems to say, _I’m sorry._

Carter knows his dad has his hearing aid in, but still signs, _I’ll be alright._

He said the same thing last year.

Regardless, his dad smiles and gives him a warm hug before nodding to his mom.

“We’ll be back soon. We made sure to get food before you came so there should be enough for lunch and dinner,” his mom instructs. It isn’t said warmly, like a mother, but rather in her business voice.

Carter nods wordlessly. There’s a weird lump in his throat.

His parents give him one last look-over before opening their front door and walking out into the snow. The slam of it closing seems final.

Marble rests her head on Carter’s thighs from where he’s sitting on the stairwell. When he looks down at her, she lets out a small whine.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. She doesn’t seem to believe him.

They spend the first few hours on the couch rewatching _Avatar_ because Carter doesn’t know what else to do besides cry. Marble restlessly paces across the hardwood floors, letting out whines every once in awhile. He lets her outside a couple times an hour but it does nothing to alleviate the irritating anxiety crawling underneath both of their skin.

At four Carter and Marble end up curled up by the fireplace, wrapped in the warmest blanket he could find. Marble’s head rests against his chest, watching his face as he mindlessly pets her back.

It isn’t like he’s had to spend the whole day alone. They all had breakfast together and opened their presents. Carter’s wearing the wool socks his mom got him.

But it hurts always knowing his parents will, at the end of the day, leave him because he isn’t good enough because he likes guys instead of girls. He can’t even be around his own family. He’s not normal. He’ll never be what they want-

Carter forces himself to take a deep breath. It makes his constricted lungs ache so he makes himself take another. And another until his chest loosens back up and Marble licks his cheek.

“Anyway,” Carter sighs, and turns towards his phone that rests by him on the floor. There’s only a handful of notifications, mostly Snapchats. He scrolls his way through them and sees all his friends spending time with their families.

Well, not all of his friends.

He thinks maybe him and Ramiro could become friends; maybe they already are on the way. Carter would like that. Being friends would be perfectly fine with him.

 _Ramiro  
_ _[4:17pm]Hi, it’s Carter :-) Merry Christmas!_

It’s basic at best, but Carter doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t expect Ramiro to reply but it’s nice to hope.

When his phone chimes, his chest blooms with an eruption of warmth.

_[4:21pm]Merry Christmas! I hope you’re having a good holiday_

_[4:21pm]Thanks! Are you?_

_[4:23pm]My nieces and nephews are high on candy canes so it’s going as well as you could expect_

_[4:24pm]Lmao that’s actually the worst. I’m so sorry._

The easy banter translates into text and Carter doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Marble starts pawing at his face. While he feeds her dinner, Ramiro tells him about all the presents he got from his family ( _I have five sisters. It’s insane_ ), how one of his older nephews wanted to wrestle with him but just ended up flipping off the couch. Ramiro’s energy breaks the boundaries of messaging, weaving these intricate, hilarious stories that Carter can see so vividly. He feels like he’s actually _there_ with him.

He wants to be.

 _Ramiro  
_ _[6:01pm]Is someone watching the cats?_

_[6:05pm]Oh, yeah. Chisato stayed over break to keep an eye on them._

_[6:06pm]She probably stayed there because of Evelyn_

_[6:06pm]Yeah, she told me they were going to hang out over break._

_[6:07pm] WAIT WHAT_

_[6:09pm]Did she not tell you???_

_Chisato_ _  
_ _[6:09pm]YOU DIDNT TELL ME YOU WERE HANGING OUT WITH EVELYN OVER BREAK YOU SNEAKY SHIT_

_[6:25pm]Lmao sorry we were just making out_

_Ramiro_ _  
_ _[6:26pm]She just told me they were making out_

_[6:30pm]OH MY GOD FJHJDFHDJ_

_Chisato_ _  
_ _[6:32pm]Did Ramiro tell you?  
_ _[6:32pm]ARE YOU TWO TEXTING_  
_[6:32PM]CARTER!!!!!!!!_

 _[6:33pm]You sneaky shit.  
_ _[6:33pm]I’m so happy for you, you lesbian_

_[6:35pm]Evelyn and I both agree that now you and Ramiro need to go out on a date. Or make out. Whichever first._

_[6:36pm]Can we not_

_[6:37pm]Evelyn is having a New Year’s Party and you two should hang out at it :)))_

_[6:38pm]Chisato please we’ve only hung out twice_

_[6:39pm]BUT YOU WANT TO HANG OUT MORE RIGHT_

_[6:41pm]..._

_[6:42pm]:) Ask him :)_

Carter tosses his phone onto the couch in a fit of anxiety. He follows Marble into pacing around the ground floor of his house, weaving through the dining room and the kitchen as he debates with himself.

It was reckless for him to ask for Ramiro’s number in the first place. Their… friendship is purely professional since they both have a cat to take care of. Ramiro probably only wanted to see him so he didn’t seem like a jerk for abandoning said cat. He doesn’t want to push it at all, or pressure Ramiro into feeling like he has to hang out with Carter because he’s annoying and melodramatic.

Maybe it would help if it wasn’t just the two of them alone.

But Carter would still be annoying.

Maybe not _as_ annoying.

Carter turns towards the couch. His phone lays there, innocently, screen black. He studies the crack beginning to form on the left corner of it from when Anthony decided to steal his phone and Carter shoved him in an attempt to get it back.

He knows himself well enough to know he’s procrastinating.

Marble nudges the inside of his knee, sending him stumbling forward.

“What the _fuck_ —” Carter blurts out. He catches himself on the arm of the couch before turning to glare at her. She simply jumps onto the couch and watches him expectantly.

“You’re a shit, Marbs,” he scolds. “But I love you.”

He sits next to her and grabs his phone. When he opens his and Ramiro’s conversation, his thumb hovers over the keyboard.

It’s not a big deal. He’ll just ask.

 _Ramiro_ _  
_ _[7:05pm]So apparently Evelyn is having a New Year’s Eve Party and I was wondering if you were going? Because that’d be cool  
_ _[7:06pm]But you don’t have to go if you don’t want I was just like wondering if you were going because I might go or something Idk_  
_[7:06pm]Anyway lmao_

_[7:09pm]Oh yeah I’ll go! It’s not like I’m doing anything important_

_[7:10pm]OH NUT  
_ _[7:10PM]I’m so sorry_

_[7:11pm]JESUS FUCKING CHRIST_

_[7:12pm]I SAID IM SORRY_

_[7:12pm]I’m changing the topic now if that’s cool with you. I think we can agree on that_

_[7:13pm]Please I’m an idiot_

_[7:14pm]We need to name the cat. I’ve just been calling her kitty_

Carter’s heart does something complicated.

_[7:16pm]Do you have any ideas? I don’t know good cat names_

_[7:16pm]She’s an old soul. Something grandma-y  
_ _[7:17pm]Hmmm. How about Theodosia?_

_[7:23pm]I love it._

_[7:23pm]:-)_

_[7:23pm]:-)_

 

* * *

 

Over Christmas there was a record-breaking snowstorm many called “Snowmaggedon.” It leaves the streets isolated and near-empty, the mountains of snow making the sidewalks nonexistent. There’s ice on almost every surface from the arctic-like winds from the Atlantic. It’s unbearable to any sensible person.

Carter has never been happier to be back.

When he arrives at his apartment, Marble runs right in and to Carter’s bed, burrowing under her favorite blanket of his. He follows her in and feels all the tenseness in his back and stomach begin to dissipate. His room back in D.C. _is_ his childhood room, but it’s not as comfortable. Everything here is lovingly worn in, stained, torn. It’s a genuine home.

Carter places a hand on top of Marble’s head. “I’m glad we’re back, too.”

With that, he gets up and throws his closet open. He shoves all his t-shirts off to the corners, exposing all the sweaters and button-ups he saves for school. Fingers run down the same yellow blazer he wore when he found Theodosia.

The name brings a small smile to his face. He picks it off the hanger and sets it off to the side.

Evelyn told him the party started at eight and it takes two hours to get to her dad’s beach house in Montauk. On Carter’s nightstand his clock reads a quarter after five _._

The pile of thrown clothes starts growing as he works his way through his closet and drawers. Marble watches with a flicker of judgement in her eyes and at one point Carter says, “I know I’m being ridiculous.”

At fifteen till six Carter pulls on his favorite pair of slacks and turns in the mirror hanging on the back of his closet door. At the angle his torso is turned his ass looks… really good.

He looks over at Marble. When she says nothing, he says, “It’s a weak move. But I’m a weak gay so I’m doing it.”

At six he climbs into an Uber since his car is back in D.C. and spends the next two hours stressing the fuck out. He’s probably going to be the only one who dressed nice, he wore his yellow blazer for the most ridiculous reason that Ramiro won’t even notice. _He wore pants that show off his ass, how desperate can he be._

Needless to say when he knocks on Evelyn’s door, he has his hands tucked into his coat pockets to hide the fact they’re shaking. His stomach keeps churning like he’s going to be sick even though he ate before driving back home. It would be so humiliating if he threw up on the porch of a multi-million dollar house.

His Uber is still rumbling in the driveway. Before he had gotten out his driver, a middle-aged man, had remarked, “I can feel you thinking all the way up here.”

He could run back and go back home, right?

The door opens and the first thing Evelyn says is, “Oh my fucking God, Carter, you gay prep. Get inside.”

Carter glances at the shimmering, deep violet dress and signature pearl jewelry she’s adorning. He doesn’t say anything. He can’t exactly _say_ anything right now.

The house is vast and modern, with industrial beams supporting the high ceilings and a spiralling wood staircase bursting out of the middle of the living room. There’s bright decorations hanging up above the living room, spiralling down and glittering in the chandelier light. Champagne bottles litter the kitchen that’s adjoined to the living room and not separated by any walls. On a huge TV screen the Times Square celebration plays, with celebrities performing and interviewing with random hosts.

Anthony looks up from where he sits on the couch. He immediately springs up. “Dude!”

The exclamation turns everyone’s attention towards Carter. Chisato follows Anthony over and Carter becomes subject to a bone-crushing group hug. He gets a strong whiff of Chisato’s vanilla perfume and— _Anthony’s wearing cologne?_

“You smell like a straight dude trying to get laid,” Carter says, voice muffled against his shoulder.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, I gotta get a smooch from somebody.”

Chisato whispers dramatically, “Isaac couldn’t make it. His sister made him go to a party back home.”

“Anthony, do we have to kiss again this year?” Carter jokes. He immediately regrets it when a mischievous glint appears in Anthony’s eye.

“But what about Ramiro?”

In perfect timing, a familiar voice breaks through. “Hey, Carter!”

Carter’s stomach downright flips at the sound, and when he looks up he feels his insides melt. Ramiro leans against the side of the kitchen entryway, holding a bubbling glass of champagne. Carter is so used to seeing him in worn, ratty clothing that the sight of him in nice jeans and a polka-dot, button down shirt completely ruins him. It doesn’t help that the lighting hits Ramiro at the perfect angle, bathing him in a pale light that makes him illuminate like an angel coming to save Carter.

He hardly notices Chisato and Anthony letting him go. His body still feels weirdly hot as if there’s a million people crowded up against him. He can’t imagine how his face looks right now.

“H-hey,” he manages.

Ramiro simply gives him a beautiful, quiet smile. It’s devastating. “Hi.”

Before Carter can say anything else, Anthony jumps over to Ramiro and throws an arm around his shoulders.

“He doesn’t have holes in his jeans!” he crows, using his free arm to point down to Ramiro’s legs for emphasis. Ramiro’s face turns scarlet. His eyes meet Carter’s for a moment before they turn downwards, directing Carter towards the worn, black Converse he’s wearing. That he always wears. Of course.

Evelyn puts a hand on Carter’s shoulder. When he glances at her, she has a triumphant smile on her face as if she had planned this all along, which she probably did.

“You want a drink?” she asks him.

“I’ll just— have water,” he answers.

“I can get it for you,” Ramiro blurts out. He squeezes his way out of Anthony’s side, frowning at him.

“You smell disgusting,” he admonishes at Anthony, who just grins.

“My uncle got it for me.”

“Don’t wear it again.”

Anthony mock salutes Ramiro. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Evelyn takes the opportunity to shove Carter in Ramiro’s direction. “Go, he wants to spend time with you or whatever.”

Carter panickingly glances back to see Chisato and Evelyn watching with matching smirks on their face. Chisato gives him a cheesy grin and thumbs-up.

Ramiro gives him a quick look-over as they step into the kitchen. It’s just as nice as the rest of the house, with marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. Resting on a long breakfast bar table are tubs of various drinks, mostly alcohol, alongside party-sized platters. Half the cheeseburger sliders are missing and Carter knows Anthony took all of them.

“I can never get over how nice this place is,” Carter murmurs.

Ramiro laughs from the breakfast bar. “I know, right? Way better than any place I could ever live.”

Carter looks over to find Ramiro watching him with a smile. Maybe he’s trying not to laugh at how Carter looks in his overly fancy clothes.

“How, uh, was your Christmas? I mean, I know we talked but just for, like, the rest of it,” he manages.

“It was fine,” Ramiro shrugs, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket he’s wearing over his shirt. “Chaotic but it could’ve been worse.”

Carter nods and sits down at one of the chairs. “What’d you get?”

Ramiro laughs again and gestures down at his clothes. “This. My older sister took me shopping.”

“I got _socks_!” Carter exclaims, lifting up his leg onto the table and tugging up the hem of his pant-leg to reveal the socks his mom got him.

Ramiro raises his eyebrows and nods slowly. “Nice. Here’s your water.”

“Thanks.”

There’s a pause of awkward silence and Carter squirms in his seat. Why did he even think to invite Ramiro to spend time with him when it would just be awkward the whole time, they wouldn’t ever be friends and he’s just wasting his time-

“Carter, get in here!” Anthony shouts. From the TV, a crowd roars in applause.

Carter and Ramiro glance at each other then walk into the living room. In a loveseat Chisato and Evelyn are crammed together in what seems to be an uncomfortable position, but Carter has never seen Evelyn look more content than she does with her arms around Chisato’s waist. Next to Anthony, Kai and Levi are holding hands. When Carter studies their interlaced hands, Kai blushes bashfully.

Anthony pats at the open cushion next to him. “Sit here, sweet prince.”

Ramiro hovers after Carter sits. “Um, is it okay if I—”

“Yeah!” Carter shouts. He winces. “I meant, yeah. Totally.”

Anthony leans over and whispers into Carter’s ear, “Eager much?”

As Ramiro sits down next to Carter, with a noticeable gap of space between them, Carter elbows Anthony roughly in the gut. He doesn’t pay attention to how he reacts, just turns to Ramiro. It’s the closest they’ve ever been, and from where he is he can feel Ramiro’s warmth radiating off his body. He smells clean and earthy, and Carter wants to lean in closer but he doesn’t.

The night passes well enough, everyone ranging from drunk to tipsy. Carter seems to be the only sober one watching as Levi stumbles out to the back porch facing the beach and starts stripping. Anthony is laying on the kitchen floor, groaning and holding his stomach after finishing off the small mountain of cheeseburger sliders. Chisato is half off the loveseat, cheeks rosy and giggling at the product commercials on TV.

Evelyn comes over and pats his cheek. She isn’t staggering or slurring her words, but when Carter looks up he sees how her gaze is unfocused. “I’m proud of you for not drinking.”

Carter’s stomach squirms. “Thanks?”

“Like,” she leans against the arm of the couch and swirls her drink. “I’m just— proud of you all the time. I mean, I think you should still think about stopping with law but I’m _proud_ of you, y’know. You’re— happier. Because fuck Nate! Fuck that guy! He—”

Carter stands, placing his hands on top of Evelyn’s. “I appreciate it. Now I’m gonna go look for Ramiro.”

Evelyn gives him a sloppy thumbs up. “Nice.”

With that Carter wanders down one of the nearby hallways. There aren’t any family pictures hanging up on the walls, or any decorations at all. Carter takes a deep breath.

Eventually he finds a barren guest room, the curtains of a wide window pushed back to show the dark night sky. In the moonlight, Carter can see the ocean waves beat against the shore.

On the bed, Ramiro turns at the sound of Carter walking in. “Oh, hey.”

He has his headphones in as he lays down, shoe-clad feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Alone, Carter notices the shadowy bags underneath Ramiro’s eyes and the crease between his brows from them being furrowed.

“Are you okay?” Carter shifts from foot to foot.

Ramiro takes out one of his headphones. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just, uh, getting close to midnight and I— don’t really like fireworks.”

Carter nods thoughtfully. He gestures to the bed. “May I sit?”

“You don’t need to ask,” Ramiro replies, sitting up against the pillows. One stray strand of hair falls into his face and before Carter can indulge himself in thinking of brushing it out of his face for him, Ramiro tucks it behind his ear. It’s equally as charming, especially when Ramiro straightens his glasses.

When Carter sinks down into the memory foam mattress, he mutters, “Oh, fuck, this is comfy.”

Ramiro smiles. “Sometimes I remember how polite you are but then you say shit like that.”

“Am I not allowed to swear?” Carter inquires with a smile, turning to face him.

“You’re a preppy law major at NYU,” Ramiro responds. “I don’t think you’re supposed to.”

“I’m not preppy?”

Ramiro wordlessly points to Carter’s outfit, with his yellow blazer, maroon sweater and Oxfords.

Carter feels his face heat up. “Well, not on _purpose_. I just dress nice to school.”

Ramiro hums. “What do you wear the rest of the time?”

For a moment Carter is too shocked to speak. He keeps telling himself their whatever-this-is is only because of Theodosia, not a genuine interest in each other. Obviously it hasn’t shut down the curiosity Carter has for this attractive pianist, but he hadn’t thought Ramiro, well, _cared._

Ramiro notices his silence. “That, uh, was probably weird to ask. I— I’m sorry.”

“No!” Carter says, dragging himself out of his thoughts. “No, I guess I was just caught off-guard.”

Ramiro gives another one of his self-deprecating smiles. “It was a weird question.”

“Hey,” Carter says, leaning so their eyes meet. Ramiro’s eyes widen at the contact, spray of freckles backed by scarlet as he blushes. “If anyone says any weird shit it’s me. I have no filter.”

“I have ADHD and social anxiety.”

“That’s a big mood.”

Ramiro bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and shoulders shaking. Carter can’t help but laugh too. He notices how Ramiro’s nose scrunches up when he laughs, how nice his smile is when it’s genuine. Ramiro’s sweet, awkward in a charming way, passionate, and _smart_.

Carter’s so screwed.

Eventually their laughter dies down and Ramiro grabs his phone. “Do you want to see Theodosia?”

“Um, always? I miss her,” Carter replies. He doesn’t expect Ramiro to scoot closer to him, meeting him in the middle of the bed. At this proximity he notices just how many freckles Ramiro has and how dark his eyes are, flecked with shades of a bronze-gold. There’s a mark on his cheek from where his glasses dug into the skin when he was laying down.

They spend what feels like forever scrolling through Ramiro’s photos of the cats, the album starting to fill up with Theodosia. One from yesterday shows how much she’s grown since the last time Carter saw her, fur beginning to turn into bush-like tufts. She always seems to be looking at the camera with her intense green eyes, analyzing and judging.

There’s pictures of Theodosia playing with Augustus, swatting at Dottie, cleaning Moose and lots of her sleeping. There’s a particularly adorable one where she’s asleep on top of Ramiro’s head without a care in the world. Most of Ramiro’s face is cut out of the frame, only his bedhead and sleepy gaze meeting the camera.

Ramiro tells him stories of how Theodosia doesn’t like to sleep at night like most of the other cats, waking them up to play and knock things off the counters. He’s had to lock away all his valuables into his office, keeping it shut when he isn’t home.

“But Theo’s really cuddly—” Ramiro starts.

“Theo?” Carter asks, grinning.

Ramiro blinks as if he didn’t even notice he said it. “I mean- she’s staying with me and— I love her a lot so why wouldn’t I call her that?”

A lump forms in the back of Carter’s throat. “I— thank you. For taking her.”

He looks down at his hands that are clasped in his lap. “I kind of just threw her at you and expected you to keep her, so thanks. I’m glad she’s with you.”

When he looks back up, Ramiro is watching him with warm, fond eyes and an even warmer smile. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“Of course I do,” Carter manages. “You saved her.”

“No,” Ramiro says, reaching out and putting a hand over Carter’s. The touch is electric. “ _You_ saved her. And she loves you so much for that.”

Carter’s laugh is watery. “She loves me?”

“Every morning she waits by the piano for you to come back. I have to hold her sometimes because she gets so sad.”

Carter looks away, groaning. “I abandoned her.”

“You didn’t! You’re busy!”

Carter turns to Ramiro with a huff. He means to ask, _Really?_ but it dies in his throat. Ramiro’s hand is still resting on top of his, warm and calloused. And the way he’s watching Carter makes his whole entire body feel warm to the point of nearly being overheated, tingling from all the near-contact they could have.

Ramiro doesn’t say anything either. They just watch each other, hands still. Carter’s chest aches from how hard his heart is beating against his ribs. His gaze flickers to Ramiro’s lips despite himself. They’re _right there._

“I—” Carter chokes out hoarsely.

A shattering boom breaks through. Ramiro’s face pales and he flinches back, threateningly close to the edge of the bed.

Another boom makes Ramiro jump again. Carter’s head snaps towards the window, where bright fireworks burst across the sky.

“It’s midnight,” he says faintly.

All at once, everyone runs into the room. Levi, only in his boxers, falls onto the bed in a mess of limbs, pulling a laughing Kai down with him. Chisato and Evelyn kiss against the doorway, and Anthony launches himself onto the bed.

“Happy New Year, fucker!” he shouts before grabbing Carter’s face painfully and smacking a kiss onto his cheek. Carter doesn’t really process it, just watches as Ramiro laughs breathlessly and realizes how easy it would have been for them to kiss.

And how maybe Ramiro would have let Carter kiss him.

“Ro-Ro, get over here and let me kiss your handsome face,” Anthony demands without heat, crawling across Carter’s lap to reach him.

“Just this once,” Ramiro replies, rolling his eyes.

“God, you’re so cute,” Anthony says before gently cradling Ramiro’s jaw and kissing his cheek firmly. Ramiro just laughs, shoving him off weakly and wiping his cheek. But their eyes meet and linger, and it hits Carter like a ton of bricks.

Later, in the guest bathroom, Carter doesn’t let himself cry. But he’s close.

 

* * *

 

 Carter goes back to the shop the week before classes start back up. It’s fairly slow, students only coming in and out to buy textbooks for their new classes. No one lingers in the café, so everyone is sitting around when Carter comes in.

Kai waves excitedly and calls, “Ramiro’s in the art aisle!”

Carter’s stomach churns. He manages a nod in thanks and starts his way towards the aisle. His knees feel weak, hardly able to support his weight. He hates how he blindly makes assumptions, hates how he’s selfish, hates how he thinks he deserves to be in a relationship—

Theodosia jumps out of nowhere, meowing loudly at the sight of him. Carter’s heart warms, regardless of anxiety, and he picks her up.

“Hi, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the top of her head. Theodosia purrs in response, rubbing her cheek against Carter’s chin.

“Theo— oh, Carter!” Ramiro turns the corner, carrying a pile of books in his arm.

The anxiety coursing through Carter’s veins spikes, and Theodosia seems to notice because she curls herself tight against his chest. “Hey.”

It comes out quiet and nervous, and doesn’t pass Ramiro. He tilts his head to the side, brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

The urge to say, _Yeah, it’s nothing, don’t worry_ , is strong. Carter shifts from foot to foot. Ramiro takes a step closer, and it sets him off.

“I just wanted to say sorry,” he rambles. “For assuming, I guess. I didn’t know you and Anthony were a thing, so, I’m sorry. For overstepping.”

Silence. Carter’s stomach flips dangerously and bile starts rising in his throat. _I can’t throw up, I can’t throw up_ —

“What?” Ramiro asks incredulously. Carter looks up to find Ramiro’s eyes wide, brow furrowed not in concern but in confusion.

Carter hugs Theodosia closer. “I thought— you and Anthony were a thing? On New Year’s you two were— I guess I just assumed—”

Ramiro barks out a laugh. “No, no, no, I’d never date Anthony. Oh my God. We’re just friends.”

Carter’s gaze cuts over to Anthony, who sits at a table by the café with Isaac. They’re in the middle of an animated conversation, Isaac showing Anthony a video off his phone. Carter watches right as Anthony looks up at Isaac, his eyes unbelievably warm, a fond smile across his lips. It’s different than the way he looked at Ramiro on New Year’s after he kissed Ramiro’s cheek, familiar and teasing.

“Oh.”

Well, his somewhat hopes of Ramiro not being straight are flying right out the window. Of course this has to happen to him.

“So, you’re— straight?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Ramiro laughs again. “No, I’m bi.”

There’s another unnatural, pregnant pause.

“Are— are you— y’know?” Ramiro asks. When Carter looks at him, he’s not looking back, fiddling with the edge of a book cover.

The breath leaves Carter’s lungs. “I’m gay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I like guys.”

“Cool.”

Another pause. Carter feels his brain absolutely reeling. _Ramiro is single and bi and maybe Carter has a chance._

He says none of this out loud, of course. The silence is getting uncomfortable.

Ramiro clears his throat. “I’m going to go now. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine,” Carter says faintly. He feels out of his body.

“Cool.” Ramiro unceremoniously walks away.

As soon as Carter is alone, he uses his free hand to smother his exasperated groan. Theodosia simply watches and lets out a chirp.

 

* * *

 

Anthony gets home when Carter’s sitting on the couch watching T.V.

“Hey, man!” Anthony says from the entryway, unwrapping a scarf from around his neck. His cheeks are rosy and his eyes are bright. When Carter left the shop, he was still wrapped up in talking to Isaac, chair scooted around the table so they could be closer.

The pure betrayal coursing through Carter’s veins is obscene.

“I thought you and Ramiro were a thing,” he says without looking away from the T.V.

Anthony scoffs. “Dude, no.”

“But I thought you were.”

Carter feels Anthony’s weight against the back of the couch. His arm presses up against Carter’s back; it’s a subtle touch but a touch nonetheless. Carter doesn’t want to relax, but he feels his shoulders loosen.

“I wouldn’t set you up with Ramiro just to sabotage you, I’m not _that_ much of an asshole,” Anthony says. A moment of silence, then he adds gently, “But I am sorry.”

Carter hums.

“Dude, look at me,” Anthony says. He wraps his arms around Carter and jostles him. “C’mon, _please._ ”

Carter scoffs and turns. At the eye contact, Anthony climbs over the couch to sit next to him. Marble’s head peeks up to get a look before laying back down in Carter’s lap.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that, okay? And I’m sorry if I pushed you at all.”

Carter looks down. “I just feel stupid, I guess.”

“Having a crush isn’t stupid.”

“But it’s _more than that_. Like, he’s the first person I’ve liked since— since-” Carter’s chest constricts despite him spending this whole conversation trying to breathe.

Anthony puts a hand on his arm. “I know. And that was bad.”

For a moment, Carter remembers Nate glaring at him, dark eyes filled with disgust. Just two days before it had been the opposite.

“I just feel like I ruin everything,” Carter admits softly.

“Hey,” Anthony says after a moment. “Look at me.”

Carter looks. “You don’t ruin anything,” Anthony says sternly. “You haven’t ruined Marble, you haven’t ruined Theo, and you haven’t ruined me. You’re so good, Carter; seriously. Give yourself a little credit.”

“Can I give myself one-percent credit?” Carter manages, smile wobbling.

“At least thirty-percent.”

“Oof, I don’t know if I can do that.”

Anthony simply laughs, and the two of them laugh together for a moment. Then he says, “Real talk? I think you and Ramiro are good together. You two don’t have to date but you could at least be friends. You like making friends.”

“It’s hard when they’re cute,” Carter admits.

“Is it hard being friends with me without kissing my face off?” Anthony asks with a quirked brow, and Carter simply raises one back.

“Anyway,” Anthony says. “I think you should hang out with him more and stuff. Just see how it goes? Try not to flirt or anything but by how New Year’s went y’all fucking flirt without trying.”

Carter feels his face heat up. “We were just talking about the cats!” he yells.

“When I went in there you two looked ready to do more than just talk,” Anthony replies and when Carter raises an arm to punch him he raises his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying.”

“What if I really want to date him?” Carter asks, indulging himself.

“Then go with it,” Anthony shrugs his shoulders. Then his expression turns serious. “You deserve a second chance— at all of it.”

Carter opens his mouth to speak, but then he remembers that cold December night when he found Theodosia. Whoever dropped her there abandoned her, saw nothing worthy in an innocent cat. But Carter found her and took her in because _he_ saw something in her.

Maybe him and Theodosia are more alike than Carter had even considered.

The next day Carter goes to the shop, which is now back in full swing with college students back from break. The scent of coffee is strong, coming in huge wafts as Chisato and Liên try to make a dent in the line forming.

Yet his gaze doesn’t focus on that. It settles right on Ramiro, who’s at the counter with a customer. His shoulders are drawn tight towards his chin and the smile on his face is strained, but he looks leagues better than he did when the fireworks went off on New Year’s. A flood of warmth fills Carter’s chest, relief and fondness combined.

Ramiro looks up and does a double-take at the sight of Carter. Then all the stress melts off of him, replaced by a genuinely bright smile. He finishes helping the student at the counter, then he says, “Hi, Carter.”

 

* * *

 

It shouldn’t be so easy to fall into a routine with someone you’ve only known for a month and a half, but for Carter it’s effortless. The few days before class starts back up, he spends his days at Lyceum following Ramiro around like a shadow. Theodosia is overjoyed, crawling into his arms as soon as she sees him. Anytime he doesn’t have the familiar weight of her against his chest is a time he feels weirdly empty.

Augustus finally realizes Carter won’t always give him attention and spends a lot of time glaring at whichever cat is getting affection instead of him. Earl doesn’t watch Carter go in and out with suspicion. More than once Carter spends hours on the floor with Moose asleep on his stomach, purring loudly. He gets used to cats resting on his face, getting covered in cat hair from head to toe.

One day he comes home and when Marble sniffs him, she stares at him before walking away. It takes an hour to get her to forgive him with lots of promises of belly rubs and extra treats for a month.

Ramiro doesn’t seem to mind Carter’s constant company. “You keep the cats from getting into all my shit,” he tells Carter one day over lunch. “I’m more productive than I have been in months.”

Carter looks around the shop then back at Ramiro. “I dunno, I think you’re always pretty productive.”

Ramiro simply smiles. “I’m gonna be sad when the semester starts.”

“Why?”

“I mean,” Ramiro’s eyes turn to the drink he’s holding in both hands. His thumb traces the rim of the cup. “You’ll be too busy for a dumb bookshop full of cats.”

A cold feeling settles deep in Carter’s gut as he watches Ramiro trace the rim of his drink. His knee does its perpetual bounce underneath the table, but it has a greater sense of urgency.

“I’m—” Carter starts. “I’m not just going to leave, I don’t do that.”

“You’re gonna be busy,” Ramiro argues without looking up.

“Not too busy to not come here anymore. This wasn’t some fling or whatever.”

“You’re not obligated to be here.”

“I didn’t say I was obligated. I don’t feel obligated. I want to be here.”

Ramiro still doesn’t look at him.

Carter rubs the back of his neck before saying gently, “Hey.”

He waits until Ramiro sneaks a glance up, pointedly looking behind Carter’s shoulder instead of at him. “I’m not leaving. I like hanging out with you. I want to keep doing that, if you want.”

Ramiro nods slowly. “If you want.”

After a moment of silence, Ramiro looks over at him. Carter gives him a small smile and Ramiro musters one in response. It’s enough.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Carter walks into his first class of spring semester, he knows it’s going to be bad. At the front of the room is one of the law professors who seems to have it out for him. Their eyes meet as Carter sits down in the very back of the classroom, and their eyes narrow at him.

It doesn’t get better from there. The professor announces a test over one of the chapters in the textbook for next week, another class is full of people Carter hates with a fiery passion, one kid brags about how he interned at one of the business firms in the financial district then becomes his partner in a group project. At one point Carter says something stupid and everyone turns to look at him with enough power to turn him into a pile of dust if laser vision existed.

He spends the hour gap between two of his last classes in a bathroom stall muffling his sobs into his backpack. When he finally raises his head, it feels as inflated as a balloon and his vision is slimmed down to a slit. He looks down at his snot-covered backpack and sighs, reaching over to the toilet paper dispenser. With every swipe on his backpack, Carter runs through the reasons why it’s good for him to be lawyer. He’ll make money, his parents will be proud of him for once, he won’t be a disappointment, if he switched now he would be wasting three years of tuition-

It does nothing to soothe the bone-deep ache filling him to the brim.

Carter doesn’t realize he’s on the train to Brooklyn after his classes until he’s getting off of it, people pushing their way around him in the evening rush to get home. He blinks. It doesn’t take much to know where his subconscious wanted him to go.

He lets his legs carry him to Lyceum, pushing through the January wind with his scarf wrapped around his neck securely. Carter doesn’t stop until he’s through the door and collapsed into a plush loveseat by the café. He slumps forward onto the swing table connected to the chair and buries his face into the crook of his elbow.

A voice eerily similar to his therapist rings through his head, telling him to hold his breath for eight, breathe out for ten. He doesn’t know how much time he spends in his dark corner, focusing on breathing until a hand hesitantly lands on his back.

“Carter? Are you alright?” Ramiro murmurs.

“Yeah,” he manages.

“I’m assuming class went pretty bad,” Ramiro replies softly. His hand moves in gentle, reassuring circles across Carter’s back. For a second Carter thinks about how he probably does this with his nieces and nephews whenever they’re upset.

“It was horrible,” Carter admits.

Ramiro hums. After a moment he says, “I’ll be right back.”

Carter almost laughs. Of course Ramiro would leave, he doesn’t want to deal with Carter’s bullshit. Everyone leaves him, he’s so stupid—

A warm scent of blueberry and cinnamon makes Carter lift his head. His eyes meet Ramiro’s and Ramiro smiles. He’s holding a cup of steaming coffee and a plate full of muffins. A lump fills Carter’s throat as Ramiro sets it down on the swing table before pulling up a chair beside him.

Carter stares at Ramiro until Ramiro gestures at the mug and plate. “Eat it.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” he whispers.

A surprising glint shines in Ramiro’s eyes. “I know.”

Carter smiles for the first time in hours. “I’m gonna make you split this with me.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re this selfless all the time?” Ramiro replies, head tilted charmingly to the side.

“I’m actually pretty selfish,” Carter says, earning a snort from Ramiro. “This morning? I took the hottest shower and left all the cold water for Anthony.”

Ramiro laughs. “Oh, how evil.”

“I’m pure evil, yes,” Carter says before grabbing one muffin off the plate and taking a bite. As soon as his teeth sink in, an explosion of blueberry, cinnamon and sweet sugar clashes onto his tongue.

“Who the _fuck made this_?” he moans through the pastry.

Ramiro’s deep red blush and ensuing awkward cough is enough of an answer.

“You made this?” Carter demands far too loudly, crumbs spilling everywhere.

“Me and, um, Chisato,” Ramiro replies hoarsely.

Carter falls back in his seat. There is nothing Ramiro can’t do and he’d fight anyone to defend that statement.

He swallows. “This is actually incredible.”

Ramiro’s face turns redder. “Uh, thanks.”

Carter shoves another bite into his mouth. The muffin is warm like it came right out of the oven and onto the plate, rich but not too sugary. He doesn’t realize he’s already eaten two until he has to take a big, heaving breath.

Ramiro laughs and pushes the coffee towards him.

Carter takes a sip and looks at him. “How did you know how I like my coffee?”

“I have my ways,” Ramiro responds. When Carter is too speechless to even think of a comeback, Ramiro has the pure audacity to _wink._

“You— you’re—” Carter stammers.

“Absolutely hilarious?”

“An asshole.”

 

* * *

 

It’s a Sunday morning, and Carter is rushing through a chapter reading when Anthony bursts through his door.

“Get dressed, dude, we’re going to the shop!” he exclaims, already adorned with a jacket and shoes.

“Right now?” Carter asks, but he’s getting up.

“It’s _important._ Like, security of the nation important.”  
  
“Is someone hurt?”

“Just hurry up!”

Anthony refuses to answer Carter’s questions as they rush to catch the train to Brooklyn. It’s quiet on the subway, just another lazy day in late January. There’s still snow, and lots of it, but the sun has started to peek out of the gray haze of clouds. It creates some semblance of warmth.

The shop isn’t on fire, or in danger of collapse, so Carter looks at Anthony again.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” he demands.

Anthony simply hushes him with a finger pressed to his lips.

Carter reaches out to grab his arm, but Anthony rushes through the door and promptly shouts, “ _Happy birthday!_ ”

Patrons look up from their spots in aisles and the café, brows furrowed in confusion and Carter wants to _die._ Then he sees the banner hanging across the front of the café counter and the balloons floating by the ceiling. Bright centerpieces glitter on the sitting area tables and by the cashier counter, silver two and zero balloons are tied to a loop in the low, waist-high door separating it from the rest of the shop.

“Whose birthday is it?” Carter asks.

“Mine,” a voice grumbles suddenly. Carter turns and sees Ramiro, who has a multicolored ribbon pinned to his shirt reading _Birthday boy!_ in fancy, cursive font.

Anthony scoops Ramiro up in a tight, bone-crushing hug. Ramiro lets out a wheeze, eyes about to pop out of their sockets. Carter would tell Anthony to be more gentle if not for the thousands of alarms blaring in his head.

“Happy birthday, man!” Anthony says before setting Ramiro back down onto the floor.

“You’re being too loud,” Ramiro complains, face red as he looks around to see all the staring eyes. His eyes meet Carter’s, and Ramiro rubs his cheek sheepishly.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Carter says.

“Because I didn’t want anyone to know,” Ramiro spits, directing it all towards Anthony, who beams.

“It’s the big two-oh! You’re an adult now!”

Chisato pops out of nowhere. She has her coat on and a purse slung over her shoulder. “Are we ready to go? Evelyn and Liên are already there.”

Ramiro blinks rapidly. “Wa— wait. We’re leaving?”

Chisato’s hand wraps around Ramiro’s bicep and she jostles him lightly. “Of course! We have to celebrate!”

“But— what about— the shop, I mean, who’s gonna, like, watch it?” Ramiro splutters. “And there’s the cats, I can’t just _leave_ —”

“Kai’s gonna be here all day,” Chisato reassures him. “We planned this out _weeks ago._ ”

Ramiro still seems unsure, tense, so Carter says, “You deserve a day off, and of all days especially on your birthday.”

Ramiro looks at him, teasing his bottom lip between his teeth— which really shouldn’t be so distraction when he appears so distressed— before sighing. “We can’t be gone too long.”

Anthony lets out a whoop. “Now say goodbye to your babies, Ro-Ro.”

Ramiro spends a noticeable amount of time tucked in the designated cat corner, pressing each cat against his chest and peppering them with kisses. Carter watches from the piano bench, following along per Ramiro’s request, absent-mindedly petting Theodosia.

“I love you so, so much. I promise I’ll be back soon so I can snuggle you again, baby, I _swear,_ ” Ramiro murmurs to Moose, who looks like a dark growth coming out of his chest with how close they’re pressed together.

Carter laughs despite himself. “You ready to go yet?”

Ramiro sighs. “I guess.”

Back at the front, Isaac has joined the group. Him and Anthony are already trapped in each other’s orbit, talking excitedly about whatever they talk about. Carter makes a mental note to ask for details later.

Chisato grins at Ramiro when she notices him. “You ready?”

“I guess.”

Chisato leads the way, a noticeable pep in her step as they walk back the way Anthony and Carter came. Anthony falls back, sticking to Isaac’s side; Carter hears snippets of their conversation, limited to but not excluding 2000s pop star Cascadia and classic anime.

Ramiro nudges Carter’s side, more of brush than a jab. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. About my birthday.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. I get it.” Carter replies. “Not everyone likes attention.”

“It’s just embarrassing,” Ramiro admits. His eyes track the constant lull of New York traffic, cars honking and taxis weaving their way through the lanes.

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Ramiro shrugs sheepishly. “I’m just self-conscious about my age. People usually think I’m still in high school because I look so young.”

“You look twenty to me,” Carter responds.

All he gets is a deep breath from Ramiro. “It’s— well, I’m, uh, trans so people always assume I’m a sixteen year old girl.” He takes another breath and Carter notices how it comes out shaky. “W-Weirdly enough older men are super flirty with me, which is, like, super gross.”

Carter watches as Ramiro glances down at his hands and buries them deep in his coat pockets. Carter wants nothing more than to reach out and gently grab one, hold it until he stops shaking.

“Well,” Carter says. “You definitely look like a guy to me and whoever doesn’t think so can fuck off.”

Ramiro bursts into loud laughter and it feels like a sunrise fills Carter’s whole chest, he feels so warm. Ramiro’s laughter is genuine and lively, charming with the amount of snorts. He beams at Carter and Carter can tell in his eyes that he’s grateful. It makes Carter wonder if coming out hasn’t always been easy for Ramiro and if that’s why he didn’t say anything till now.

“But I get the whole, like, gender thing,” Carter says. “Sometimes I’m a guy, other days I’m a girl, sometimes I’m both or neither and explaining that to a bunch of law majors who are too privileged to understand that gender is a social construct kind of sucks.”

“Preach it,” Anthony calls from behind and Isaac applauds him.

“Gender’s pretty stupid, isn’t it,” Ramiro says, giving Carter a slanted smile.

“The absolute most useless thing on the planet.”

When all of them reach the subway, Ramiro looks at Chisato quizzically. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” she replies. “Now hurry up, if we miss the train we’ll be extra late.”

“How long is this going to take?”

It takes nearly two hours. They get on the train, get off, walk a few blocks, then do it all over again. The sun has started to break through more and more, making it a rare, warm day, but Carter’s legs ache.

When they collapse onto the reportedly last train, Ramiro glares at Chisato. “You know I hate physical exercise.”

Chisato simply pats his knee. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

“If I keel over and die I’m haunting you.”

A few minutes later, a stop for Allerton Avenue gets called over the speakers. Chisato tugs Ramiro up, yelling at the rest of them to hurry up to the doors.

“What are we doing in the Bronx?” Ramiro demands, less kindly than before.

Chisato doesn’t answer, just drags him off the train as soon as it stops. She practically runs across the platform and up the stairs, into the bright sunlight. Carter, Anthony and Isaac rush after her, following the sound of Ramiro wheezing and trying to catch his breath.

On the ground level, the first thing Carter sees is white. The snow buries the bare trees, covers the surprisingly large plots of land all around. In the distance, a dome-shaped building looms high in the sky.

Chisato points at it. “That’s where we’re going.”

“Is it a laboratory?” Ramiro asks slowly.

“Something like that,” she answers.

As they approach it, the banners on the street lights turn silvery, photos of various plants and flowers standing out in the snowy backdrop.

Carter watches as Ramiro looks up at the banners and stares at Chisato. “Is this a botanical garden?”

She simply smiles. Ramiro doesn’t seem to process, then slowly it dawns on him. His expression blooms, transforming in a matter of seconds from shock to pure joy. His eyes widen and shine right as a grin stretches across his face.

“ _No_ —” he manages.

“Happy birthday!” Chisato exclaims right before Ramiro tackles her into a hug. He murmurs something into her shoulder, face hidden, and Chisato kisses the side of his head.

“Now c’mon,” she says as they separate. “Evelyn and Liên are waiting.”

Their arms loop together, shoulders pressed close and Ramiro looks back at Carter. He still has that bright smile on his face as they make eye contact and a shiver runs down Carter’s spine.

“You coming?” Ramiro asks.

“Hell yeah, he is,” Anthony interjects. He grabs Carter’s arm and drags him along.

Inside the main building, the towering dome Carter first saw, Evelyn and Liên sit on a bench against a wall. At the sight of Chisato, Ramiro and the rest of them, the pair shoot to their feet and run over. Evelyn sweeps Chisato up into a theatrical kiss, spinning her around. Liên hugs Ramiro warmly before seeing Carter and winking. Carter feels his face heat up and he lets out an unintelligible stream of splutters.

“Where’s the love for me?” Anthony asks, bottom lip formed into a pout.

“We’d never forget you,” Liên replies before going over to hug him. Anthony doesn’t waste the opportunity to ruffle her hair.

“I meant to tell you, I’m really glad you could make it,” she says to Carter.

“Anthony didn’t exactly tell me where we were going,” Carter replies. “But, uh, thanks for inviting me?”

“You guys know there’s a garden in Brooklyn, right?” Ramiro asks and Chisato blankly looks over at Evelyn.

Evelyn just shrugs. “This one seems way fancier. Now is anyone hungry?”

Isaac’s hand shoots up. “Me!”

“Do they have pizza?” Ramiro asks.

Liên points at him. “Yes.”

“ _Yes._ ”

The cafeteria they all go to is fairly small, with simple white tables and glass windows looking out into the gardens. The snow has been pushed off to the sides to keep the sidewalks clear and let the plants keep growing. Carter sees all different kinds, ones with drooping bells and rippling petals, in shades of vibrant colors.

“They’re so beautiful,” Ramiro murmurs next to him.

Their shoulders brush and Carter looks down to find Ramiro gazing out the windows. His cheeks are red from the cold weather, making his freckles stand out. They sprawl across the bridge of his nose and onto his cheeks, right below his eyes. Carter’s eyes flicker to the lone one by the corner of Ramiro’s upper lip.

“Yeah,” Carter finds himself replying breathlessly.

It makes Ramiro look at him, eyes shining in the bright light and he smiles. It’s a small, private smile, like there’s an inside joke only the two of them know.

“I’m surprised you’re actually wearing jeans today,” Ramiro says. “What happened to the preppy slacks and sweaters?”

“It’s my day off,” Carter replies, feeling a smile grow onto his face.

Ramiro laughs. “Well, good.”

“Good?”

“You look more like yourself.”

Carter couldn’t find it possible to lose more of the air in his lungs but the last of it leaves him. It must show on his face because Ramiro’s smile only gets wider. But he doesn’t comment on it, just jerks his head towards the café and says, “Come on.”

The café is charming, with brick ovens and chefs wearing tall, white hats.

Carter watches Ramiro grab three cheese pizzas and stack them onto his plate like pancakes.

“You’re so weird,” Carter remarks.

Ramiro simply glares before grabbing a fourth pizza.

“You’re going to die in like, ten years if you keep eating like that.”

“I’m here for a good time, not a long time. Let me eat my goddamn pizza, it’s my birthday.”

Carter takes the opportunity to grab a salad off one of the nearby racks. Ramiro simply rolls his eyes.

At the table, Carter isn’t the only one to remark upon Ramiro’s food choice.

“What the _fuck,_ ” Anthony says.

“Good thing they have to-go boxes,” Evelyn says.

“I have so much respect for you?” Isaac says.

Ramiro sits down. “I’m going to eat all of this and you will watch me.”

“That’s so unhealthy,” Chisato murmurs behind her hands.

Ramiro grabs a slice from the top pizza and proceeds to take a bite. While chewing, he looks over at Carter. “Hey, when’s your birthday?”

“Um,” he starts. “July 28th.”

Liên replies, “Isn’t that when _The Emoji Movie_ came out?”

“Unfortunately,” Carter sighs.

“I think you mean _luckily_ _!_ ” Anthony exclaims. “I took him to see it for his birthday and it was awesome.”

“How was it?” Ramiro asks.

“Traumatic,” Carter replies. “Like, absolutely horrible. I wanted to bleach my brain.”

“We have it on DVD,” Anthony downright giggles and Carter glares at him.

“That’s awful and I’m sorry,” Ramiro says to Carter. Their knees brush.

Carter can’t manage a response, he’s so tongue-tied.

 

* * *

 

The garden really is beautiful, even in the dead of winter. Somehow the flowers are still alive in the outdoors, lively against the bare, snow-heavy trees.

There are indoor greenhouses with towering palm trees trapped in humid heat, tropical plants, cacti and so many more varieties it’s nearly overwhelming. Carter’s gone to the botanical gardens back in D.C., but only when he was small. It’s been years since he’s done this with anyone.

It’s nice to watch his friends walk around and look at everything in wonder. Chisato and Evelyn hold hands the whole time, talking quietly to one another and Chisato occasionally takes pictures. Isaac, Anthony and Liên try to find as many plants that look like dicks and snicker to each other.

Ramiro walks around in a starry-eyed daze, inspecting each plant with an intensity Carter couldn’t expect from anyone else. He gently touches flower petals and lets his fingertips cradle them. There’s a kind of reverence in his movements, as if Ramiro thinks he’s going to break something so precious and delicate. His hands are calloused and covered in scars Carter recognizes to be from Snuggles, one of Ramiro’s cats who has done nothing but hiss at Carter since they first met. But Carter knows they’re gentle, could be nothing but gentle. He sees it in how Ramiro plays the piano, takes a break from shelving books to scoop up one of the cats and cradle them against his chest. Carter remembers when Ramiro put a hand on his back and knew Ramiro would never hurt him.

Ramiro is warm like his muffins, intelligent and fiery like his cats. Whenever Carter thinks of him, he thinks of the sunset, tranquil and vibrant in its own way.

Carter doesn’t know what he did to get someone like him in his life, and as Ramiro turns to him and excitedly tells him about how he’s always wanted to plant the kind of flower they’re both standing in front of, he knows he doesn’t deserve him.

 

* * *

 

It’s dark by the time they all leave the garden. Carter sneaks into the gift shop to find Ramiro a last minute gift. The cashier had watched from the counter as he stared at the shelves, absolutely clueless.

When he had set the small, glass terrarium onto the counter, the cashier smiled. “Is this for someone special?”

“I—” Carter started. “It’s his birthday and I didn’t know till today.”

The cashier nodded before offering, “We have some tissue paper if you want.”

Outside, everyone stays huddled together for warmth. Ramiro is the first to look up when Carter rejoins the group.

He looks at the bag. “What’s that?”

“Nothing important,” Carter says.

“Where to next?” Isaac asks, voice muffled behind his thick scarf.

“Dinner!” Evelyn responds eagerly. “Come on, let’s go, we have a reservation.”

“What about my cats?” Ramiro whines.

“They’re _fine,_ don’t worry,” Liên reassures him, patting his arm.

“But I _miss them_."

“Enjoy yourself for once, Ro-Ro, jeez,” Anthony says. “It’s your birthday.”

“I ate four whole pizzas, I enjoyed myself.”

“That was disgusting,” Carter says.

“‘Ingly amazing?” Ramiro counters. “Thanks, I think so too.”  
  
“Guys!” Evelyn shouts, already halfway up the street. “We have to go!”

The subway is still calmer than it usually is, so the ride is without much trouble. Chisato and Evelyn conspire together, leaning in close and whispering so no one overhears them. Carter notices how Ramiro’s knee has started bouncing again, more agitated.

They end up in the city, with its perpetual buzz and bright lights. Carter sees all the backpack-clad and wide-eyed tourists navigating their way around. Here, the wind becomes harsher and colder and Carter tucks his nose into his coat.

Sleek, modern buildings transform as they work their way through the blocks, shrinking and turning into brick. Flags begin to flap in the wind, red and white and green. The crowd becomes more concentrated, and a heavy scent of bread baking fills Carter’s nostrils.

“Oh, _fuck you,_ ” Ramiro exclaims. Above, a fluorescent green sign welcomes all of them to Little Italy.

Banners stretch across the busy streets from building to building, strung with lights. Music streams out from the windows of bakery shops and vendors are out in the cold to sell cannolis and calzones.

“Why exactly is this bad?” Carter asks as he slows down to gape at a vendor full of tall, exquisite cakes.

“I used to work at an Italian restaurant and these assholes are using it against me,” Ramiro grumbles.

“Oh, really?”

Ramiro shrugs. “It was when I first moved here and I needed money. But the owner was a jerk so I quit.”

“Where’d you go next?”

“Lyceum. And the rest is history.”

Chisato suddenly winds her arms through Carter and Ramiro’s. “C’mon, we’re here!”

She pulls them up a set of stairs and through open, wooden doors. Inside, the lighting is dim and quiet piano music plays over the speakers. At a podium, a waiter looks up.

“Reservation for Rowe?” Evelyn says.

“Oh! Two of the people are already here waiting,” The waiter replies, grabbing extra menus and leading them inside.

The restaurant is what every Italian restaurant looks like, with small tables covered in white cloths. In the center of each, a small candle burns beside wine glasses and fine, porcelain plates. There’s a noticeable amount of people, all tourists just by the looks of them.

Near the center, sitting at a large, circular table, Kai and Levi wave. Both of them wear button-down shirts and jackets. Carter looks down at his pullover and jeans.

“You’re supposed to be working!” Ramiro hisses at Kai.

His eyes widen as he manages, “Chisato told me to close early so we could come! I didn’t mean to upset you, I can leave—”

Chisato sits next to him so she can ruffle his hair. “Hey, it’s okay. You did good, kiddo.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” Ramiro sighs, collapsing in a seat next to Carter.

“I think you mean we’re the best friends ever?” Anthony says.

“Hey,” Carter says, nudging Ramiro’s shoulder. “We wanna celebrate you.”

Ramiro looks up from where he’s hiding his face in his hands, and huffs.

Carter fiddles with the strings of the gift bag. “I mean, I didn’t know it was your birthday and I’m sorry but— here.” He places the bag into Ramiro’s lap.

Ramiro stares. “You— you said—”

“I wasn’t gonna spoil you on what I got you for your birthday.”

“You didn’t— you didn’t have to do that—”

Carter smiles. “I know.”

“You’re such an _asshole_ ,” Ramiro says, but he’s smiling, too.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Awww, _guys,_ ” Isaac says from where he’s sitting next to Anthony.

“Who is ready to get _drunk_?” Evelyn interjects before opening up a menu.

“Ev, I can’t drink here, I’m not old enough—” Ramiro starts.

“Shhh,” Evelyn responds, waving her hand. “I know the owner, it’s all good.”

A waiter brings them a bottle of wine and a bread basket. Both get passed around and Carter makes sure to fill only less than a quarter of his glass with the wine. He resists the urge to fill it all the way, despite something telling him he might need it.

Despite the surprise, Ramiro stays just as happy as he was at the garden. His knee bouncing stays down to a minimum, mostly still next to Carter’s. In the lowlight of the restaurant, his complexion turns a warm bronze and Carter can see the candlelight in his eyes, making them appear more golden than usual. Carter can’t take his eyes off him, basking in the way he smiles so easily and how genuine his laughter sounds.

Lyceum was a bubble that contained Carter and Ramiro’s interactions, trapping them to only one space and one circumstance. It had been hard enough for Carter to avoid his attraction for Ramiro, but now that they’re spending a noticeable amount of time together outside of the cats, it consumed Carter’s mind. His skin feels like it’s burning just being _inches_ away from Ramiro’s.

When a waiter brings in a birthday dessert for Ramiro, the whole restaurant joins in singing the song as Ramiro hides his face behind his hands. He laughs, face red, while everyone at the table takes pictures and videos. Carter finds himself mumbling the words, too lost in watching. Something warm blooms deep inside Carter’s chest, spilling out from behind his ribs to the tips of his fingers and toes.

He realizes how badly he wants, wants everything. _I want him._

Ramiro blows out the bright green candle stuck in the middle of a warm, gooey brownie covered in ice cream and fudge. Everyone cheers.

Carter makes himself look away, some voice inside his head telling him to do it. Instincts turn his head towards a corner of the restaurant and at once, everything inside him goes deathly cold.

At a two-person table, a college-aged guy watches with a bright, mirthful smile. He wears a blue and grey Columbia shirt, one that Carter can still remember the texture of on his own skin. The man’s face is covered in hundreds of freckles Carter still doesn’t know the amount to.

It feels like a hand forces itself into Carter’s chest and rips into his lungs. All the breath disappears from him, chest aching with the effort of trying to get it all back. His limbs go stiff, unable to turn his gaze away from Nate.

Carter hasn’t seen him in _months,_ not since—

He can’t breathe, his body is shutting down—

“Carter?” Evelyn asks, but it comes out as if he’s submerged underwater while everyone else is above the surface.

“What— oh, _fuck_ ,” Anthony mutters. Chisato turns and gasps.

"Nate _motherfucking Cardoza,_ " Evelyn hisses.

“What a dirty fucking bastard, what the hell is he doing here—” Liên swears.

“Carter?” Ramiro whispers. It sets off a full tremor and a fork clatters out of Carter’s hand back onto the table.

“Who is that?” Kai asks quietly.

“The worst dude in the world,” Anthony spits out. “Also known as Carter’s ex.”

A deep, shaking breath leaves Carter. It aches, but he forces one back in. It’s fine, he’s fine, nothing bad is going to happen. Nate wouldn’t yell at him in the middle of a restaurant—

_You’re really not going to say anything right now? Nothing? You’re just going to let this happen?_

Carter makes himself take another deep breath. He feels a familiar hand wrap around his own, and it’s enough to make his head turn. Ramiro watches him, brow knit together.

Their eyes meet and he says softly, “It’s okay.”

“Y-yeah,” Carter chokes out. “It’s fine.”

Ramiro turns to glare at Nate just like a majority of the table is doing, and Carter can’t bring himself to look. Nate has probably noticed by now and realized that out of all the people in New York City, his pathetic fucking _ex-boyfriend_ is in the same restaurant as him.

“I think he’s leaving,” Liên whispers.

“Yeah, he’s getting up,” Evelyn replies. “Who the fuck is he with?”

“It’s his sister,” Carter mumbles without thinking. He had never met her, but Nate had shown him pictures. He had wanted Carter to meet his family. Carter had said _No, not yet._

“Wait, he’s gonna pass by our table,” Anthony says. “Oh, _fuck, he’s coming right over here_ —”

“What the fuck are we gonna do? Flip him off? Trip him? Kick him in the balls?” Liên demands.

Ramiro suddenly turns to Carter. “Hey, I’m gonna kiss you. Is that okay?”

“ _What_ —” Anthony squawks.

“I— uh—” Carter stammers.

“Is it okay?” Ramiro asks again and Carter just nods. Then Ramiro cups his jaw and leans forward and all at once absolutely nothing else in the world matters.

Carter’s eyes flutter shut and everything melts away. He forgets he’s in the middle of a restaurant full of people he’s never met in his whole life, except for his ex who is probably walking by right at this moment. All that matters is Ramiro with his lips pressed against his own. Ramiro’s hands are rough against Carter’s jaw, but he’s holding him so gently Carter doesn’t think about it for too long. Ramiro tastes like fudge and vanilla, and Carter doesn’t realize that his hands have gone around Ramiro’s waist to tug him closer until he lets out a sound against Carter’s mouth. Ramiro’s right hand moves up to cradle the back of Carter’s head, still so gentle and Carter leans in further because _God, this man._

Then Carter realizes he can’t breathe right at the moment Ramiro pulls away just enough that their lips aren’t touching anymore. Carter heaves a huge gulp of air and he feels his hands slide up to Ramiro’s shoulder and neck. Their foreheads press together. Carter’s heart is still hammering against his chest and he’s still breathless, but for a completely different reason now.

_Oh my God, we just kissed._

Carter opens his eyes to find Ramiro already watching him. His mouth is red, even more so than his face, and his eyes search Carter’s. Carter’s thumb brushes against Ramiro’s shoulder.

When they part, Carter feels like a part of him is missing. He glances over at Ramiro, who is resolutely staring at his plate.

Carter looks up. Everyone else at the table is staring, mouths agape and eyes almost comically wide.

He clears his throat. “Is he gone?”

Anthony’s mouth closes with an audible click. “I,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah, he’s gone.”

“Cool.” Carter takes a deep swig of his wine, finishing it off. He should’ve listened to his gut.

There’s a beat of silence. Evelyn turns and calls, “Check, please?”

Ramiro has scooted as far away from Carter as possible, resting on the edge of his seat by Liên. They stay like that even when they leave, a noticeable gap of space between them.

Carter’s head aches from how hard his brain is reeling. That was the first time he’s kissed anyone in months and it was better than any he’s ever gotten. He isn’t one to easily believe those cheesy tropes about love, but that was—

It felt—

He’s—

“I’m sorry,” Ramiro blurts out, once they’re at the closest subway station.

“What?” Carter says. He looks up, and Ramiro is staring at the space behind Carter’s shoulder. His lip is drawn between his teeth and his hands are buried deep into his coat pockets. It just might be the light, but it nearly looks like Ramiro’s eyes are glistening.

“I said I was sorry. For— what I did,” Ramiro repeats. “I overstepped a boundary and I— I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry. It’s okay if you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Carter replies. Ramiro’s head snaps to look at him fully. “I promise. If anything, I’m mad that I got so upset about him being there.”

“You had every right to react like that,” Ramiro says gently.

“I really don’t,” Carter laughs. It finally hits him, and he has to resist the urge to puke his guts out on a random sidewalk.

Ramiro steps forward. “I don’t— know what happened, but I know what it means when someone reacts that way. It was bad, wasn’t it?”

Carter doesn’t answer.

Ramiro sighs. “Listen, I— I have to get going. But— Carter?”

He meets Ramiro’s gaze, and he gives Carter a gentle smile. A part of the whirlwind inside Carter settles. “If you wanna talk about it, you know where I am.”

Carter nods. “I hope you had a good birthday.”

“I did. Thank you.”

They stare at each other for a second before Ramiro nods to himself, and walks away. Carter lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He watches as Chisato, Evelyn, Ramiro, Liên, Kai, Levi and Isaac descend into the subway station. Anthony steps next to Carter and they sit in silence for a moment.

Finally, Anthony says, “Carter.”

He looks up. “Yes?”

“ _What the absolute, complete fuck was that._ ”

 

* * *

 

 _Ramiro_ _  
_ _[9:45pm]So we’re good?_

_[9:47pm]Yeah, we’re good! No worries._

_[9:47pm]Because you didn’t have to accept my apology or anything_

_[9:48pm]Dude. You’re okay. It doesn’t change anything._

_[9:49pm]Okay._ _  
_ _[9:49pm]Cool._

_[9:52pm]Cool._

 

* * *

 

Carter spends weeks replaying it over and over again in his head. He only indulges himself when it’s late at night and he can’t sleep, slowly falling back into the memory of Ramiro holding him against his chest, kissing him like nothing else mattered in the world but their lips pressed together.

Carter told Ramiro it didn’t change anything.

He’s trying to tell himself the same.

 

* * *

 

January fades to February in a frenzy of tests, projects and quizzes. Carter’s professors start throwing summer internships into his face, telling him that he has to get some under his belt before senior year. Carter starts getting less and less sleep, more and more stressed, and more and more ready to just quit school and live under a bridge as a hermit.

Apparently the hell that is February has affected everyone else too because Carter can feel the tension as soon as he walks into the café. Students are hunched over their laptops, hair and faces a mess. People become more snappish, and even Ramiro is more short-tempered.

One Thursday night, Anthony says over takeout, “We need to do something this weekend.”

Carter sighs. “I’ve got, like, three tests next week-”

“Nope, won’t hear it. We need to chill the fuck out and jerking off has not been working for either of us.”

Carter squawks, “I have not—”

“Shut the fuck up, I know your vibe and I have been sensing it nonstop.”

Carter leans down to where Marble is sitting at his feet and covers her ears. “Not in front of my innocent baby! You’re disgusting.”

“At least I don’t sexile my dog.”

“ _Okay,_ this is over,” Carter interjects, sitting back up. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Anthony simply grins.

 

* * *

 

“No,” Carter says.

“Oh, _hell yeah!_ ” Levi shouts, pumping a fist into the air.

They all stand outside a karaoke bar, small and cramped between two larger buildings. Just from the outside, worn down with a flickering neon sign in the entry window, it looks sleazy. Carter can feel the beating pulse of music shake the concrete sidewalk beneath his feet.

“Oh, hey, here’s a used condom,” Ramiro says. He kicks it with his foot onto the street.

“Okay, nope, we’re leaving,” Evelyn says. “This place is unsanitary and I am not getting a disease just because you wanted to have a good time.”

“Nah, nah, nah, Evie, _listen,_ ” Anthony retorts, raising his hands defensively. “I looked up this place on Yelp, we’re all good.”

“No one fucking uses Yelp, Anthony!”

Anthony slouches and groans at the dark sky. “Why don’t any of you wanna have fun? College this, college that. Let’s get fucked up for once!”

“I agree with Tony,” Liên says. “I’ve found, like, four gray hairs on my head in the past two weeks. I am not looking like an old lady.”

“I’m in the mood to get fucked up,” Levi states.

“You’re always in the mood to get fucked up,” Kai replies, but pats Levi’s cheek fondly.

Evelyn looks to Chisato, who shrugs. She looks at Carter.

“I’m not drinking.”

She sighs. “If any of you get arrested, I am letting you rot in jail.”

Anthony cheers. “Sick! Let’s go!”

Once passing through the main entrance, the volume of the music immediately increases. It shakes the walls, threatening to make old, sleazy pictures fall onto the floor. Carter immediately notices the loud, horribly off-key voice singing Britney Spears.

“This is going to be so awful,” he says.

“I’m going to record all of this,” Liên laughs, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

The whole place is horribly small, a cheap bar and karaoke stage smashed together into a single space and separated by a random assortment of chairs and tables. In the corner, people are playing pool or old arcade games. It’s surprisingly packed, people taking up most of the seats and cheering on the older man on stage.

“I call dibs on Pac-man!” Levi yells, dragging Kai by the arm towards the corner of the bar.

Anthony turns to Evelyn. “You get drinks, I’ll get us in line for karaoke. Who wants to go first?"

When no one responds, he turns to Carter. “Africa?”

“Please, no,” Carter begs. “You know I have to be super drunk for that.”

“Then get drinking! Isaac?”

“I _got you,_ ” Isaac says soulfully.

The two of them run up to the karaoke operator, a small, older woman, with the energy of two kids on Halloween.

“You said you weren’t drinking tonight?” Ramiro asks suddenly, and Carter looks over.

“I— yeah. I don’t usually drink,” he responds.

Ramiro nods slowly. “Well, I bet they have Coke or something.”

It turns out they do, and Carter buys himself one despite the bartender offering to make it a Coke and rum. He takes a sip and proceeds to gag.

Ramiro laughs. “Is it that bad?”

“It tastes like they put twenty Pixie Sticks in it, _fuck,_ ” Carter swears.

“Here, lemme try it,” Ramiro says before leaning into Carter’s space. Carter is stuck watching as Ramiro takes a sip out of the straw, lips only inches from his face.

Ramiro sits back in his bar seat and hums. “Sugary. That’ll fuck you up.”

“Well,” Carter manages, tearing his gaze away from Ramiro to Anthony and Isaac talking to the karaoke operator. “I think I’ll need it.”

Twenty minutes and three drinks later, Carter feels nothing short of buzzed. His skin feels like it’s vibrating and he suddenly remembers it’s been six months since he’s drank soda. Well, fuck.

Ramiro seems to be getting tipsy, cheeks turning rosy and leaning heavily onto the bar counter. He simply watches the karaoke stage, brow furrowed adorably.

He perks up and outright punches Carter in the shoulder. “Look, it’s Anthony and Isaac!”

Carter turns to see Anthony and Isaac getting up onto the stage, wearing matching grins. The audience, unfamiliar with either of them, gives a quiet applause. From the back, Kai and Levi cheer.

“What’s up, fuckers,” Anthony says into the microphone. “You ready to get your minds blown?”

Isaac laughs, then points at the karaoke operator. Immediately, the music starts up and Carter is too far away to read the title of the song on the screen.

But then he hears a familiar record scratch and he buries his head into his hands. Anthony sings the opening lyrics of _Everytime We Touch_ and earns whoops from the crowds. Carter knows he took opera lessons as a kid and has the talent to become a professional singer, but Carter cannot fucking stand when Anthony sings shit like this.

Chisato bursts out laughing next to him. “Are you recording this, Liên?”

“Of course I am!”

Isaac is… bad. He’s off key and his voice cracks at one point, but he makes up for it in spirit. Once the beat of the chorus drops, him and Anthony break out into a choreographed dance. The audience absolutely explodes, cheering and fist-bumping to the beat.

“I hate them so much,” Carter mumbles.

“They’re perfect for each other,” Evelyn says.

At the end, Anthony and Isaac bow dramatically as they get a standing ovation. Anthony spots Chisato and Evelyn in the crowd and waves them up.

“Oh, no, no—” Evelyn starts, but Chisato grabs her hand.

“Ev, come on! It’ll be fun!”

“I’m not embarrassing myself—”

“For me?” Chisato asks, looking up at Evelyn with puppy eyes. Carter sees the exact moment Evelyn caves, and she huffs. Chisato squeals and tugs Evelyn forward.

“I’ve never heard Evelyn sing,” Ramiro remarks from his seat. Carter just remembers how grateful he is that he’s not up there.

Anthony and Isaac settle in Chisato and Evelyn’s seats. “How were we?” Anthony asks, grinning like he already knows the answer.

“Absolutely awful,” Ramiro says, laughing when Isaac frowns.

“Well, why don’t you go up there next, Ro-Ro?” Anthony replies.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Carter is used to hearing Evelyn sing under her breath while doing homework, so he isn’t surprised when she absolutely smashes a cover of an eighties love song. Her voice is low and smoky, perfectly matching Chisato’s higher one. Yet Evelyn is still shy on stage, only getting into it once Chisato twirls her around. They end up head-banging during a particularly good guitar riff, and earn wolf whistles from the audience.

Once it’s over, Evelyn is breathless and blushing, and Chisato laughs before looping her arms around her neck and kissing her on stage. It does nothing but make Evelyn’s face redder.

Anthony turns to Ramiro. “It’s your turn, man.”

Ramiro stumbles to his feet. “I know, I know. _Dios mio,_ shut the fuck up.”

“You’re so pissy when you’re drunk.”

Ramiro only flips him off in response. By the stage, he nearly rips the microphone out of the operator’s hand and steps onto stage. He squints in the harsh, multicolored spotlight before he appears to adjust and Carter gets hit with how _good_ he looks. As he brushes strands of hair out of his face, Carter sees how deep and fiery his eyes look, and the redness of his cheeks is downright inappropriate.

Their eyes meet across the room as Ramiro shifts in place. Carter gulps.

What happens next Carter can only explain as a damn near religious experience.

A synth beat opens up and Ramiro starts to sing, and Carter’s mouth drops open. His voice is… heavenly, that’s all Carter can think. It’s raspy in a way Carter has never heard from him before, matching the sultriness of the song that Carter recognizes from the radio. He isn’t the only one to be shocked; the audience goes dead silent before a few people whistle encouragingly. Ramiro doesn’t seem to react, voice building in power and volume. He looks like he’s made for the stage, completely confident.

Carter doesn’t know how he didn’t realize it sooner, that Ramiro deserved to be loved by the whole entire world because he has so much to offer.

Then it’s over and the applause is thunderous. Everyone is up on their feet as Ramiro nods in thanks, stepping down and handing the microphone off. His eyes lock on Carter and Carter has to look away, or else he’ll do something he’ll regret. He takes a long sip of his drink.

Chisato hugs Ramiro as soon as he’s back at the bar. “Holy shit, you were amazing!”

“That was hot,” Liên remarks and looks over at Carter pointedly.

“I think Carter got a boner,” Anthony mutters, then yelps when Carter punches him in the arm.

Ramiro shrugs with one shoulder. “I’m glad I got a good song at least.”

He looks over at Carter. “You gonna go up there?”

“I—” Carter says, tongue thick. “I mean— I dunno—”

“Come on!” Chisato says. “Just one song, please?”

“Go, go, go,” Anthony starts chanting, Isaac and Liên joining in.

Carter relents. “I’ll go, whatever.”

By the stage, the karaoke operator smiles at Carter. In closer proximity, he sees her short, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She has laughter lines by her mouth and warm, dark eyes.

“Now, just pick a song from this list and I’ll get it ready for you, okay?” she explains, voice a surprising Southern accent in the middle of Manhattan.

“I— okay,” Carter manages.

The computerized list is long and extensive, ranging between multiple genres and decades. There are a lot of songs he doesn’t know, so he scrolls back towards more recent songs. Immediately, he finds one he knows.

He points at it. “This one.”

The operator doesn’t comment on it, just nods and hands him the microphone.

Carter hasn’t exactly performed in years, ever since high school theatre that Carter couldn’t dedicate himself to completely with lacrosse and academics. He loved it even though his parents aren’t particularly fond of it, he still does and takes electives whenever he has the space in his schedule. Sometimes Carter lets himself sing in the shower, or when he’s home alone.

God, he can’t even remember the last time he sung in front of someone else. Especially a crowd.

As he steps up, everyone from the bar whoops and hollers. Carter tries to smile, but the spotlight blinds him and he stumbles. A few people laugh and as soon as he reaches the mic stand, he mumbles, “Sorry.”

The black spots in his vision clears, his sight adjusts itself and Carter looks over to all his friends. Chisato gives him a thumbs up. Ramiro smiles before turning away to order another drink.

Before Carter can change his mind, the song starts. He knows it like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s blasted it through his headphones whenever studying or cleaning or anything, really. He bobs his head along with the opening beat then takes a deep breath.

From the bar, everyone roars. Slowly, Ramiro turns around and stares up at Carter. His eyes are wide and it’s enough for Carter to almost stop, but he keeps going.

The rest of the crowd claps along with the beat and Carter finds himself working through the metaphorical rustiness. Before he knows it, he finds himself dancing across the stage as he sings the chorus. It passes in a flash and suddenly it’s over and the crowd is on its feet, applauding so loudly Carter feels like his brain is rattling around in his skull. He stumbles off stage and back into his seat, Anthony clapping him on the back.

“You were so fucking good, man.”

“Like, so good,” Isaac adds, nodding eagerly.

Chisato comes up from behind and kisses his cheek, laughing. “I’m proud of you!”

Evelyn gives him a wink, then Liên interjects, “Anthony, Isaac, let’s go. I wanna do _All Star_ before I’m too drunk.”

Anthony whoops and the three of them go up next. Carter doesn’t watch, just asks the bartender for a drink of water and tries to drown out the shaking in his limbs.

“You were good up there,” a voice says from behind and Carter turns to find Ramiro leaning against the counter. He looks just as loose as he did on stage, and the closeness is doing Carter no favors.

“What?” Carter says then mentally thumps himself on the head.

Ramiro just leans closer and repeats, “I said you were really good up there! I didn’t know you could sing.” His breath smells sweet, but Carter picks up the unmistakable tang of vodka.

“Uh, thanks,” Carter replies over the music. “I did theatre in high school.”

Ramiro doesn’t scoot away. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, but my parents didn’t really like it.”

Ramiro snorts. “Seriously? You’re already gay, being a theatre kid doesn’t make it any worse.”

“Well,” Carter starts around the tightness of his chest. “My parents didn’t know I was gay in high school.”

Ramiro stares at him for a second then blinks. “Oh. Sorry.”

Carter shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Ramiro says. He puts his hand on Carter’s arm and Carter feels the goosebumps already rippling up his skin. “I’m sorry. It sucks.”

“It’s really okay,” Carter says. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m gonna worry anyway.”

Carter’s heart stops for a solid second. “Oh, really?”

Ramiro nods. His movements are getting slower and sloppier. “Yeah, I’ll always worry about you. Because, like, I care about you or whatever.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, like, you brought me this cat,” Ramiro explains, gesturing wildly. “And, like, out of nowhere. It was deadass so late when you rang my doorbell and I was so confused and then I saw you. And then, like, you had Theo and I love her so much and of course I’m gonna care about the person who brought me the cutest kitten ever. Y’know?”

Carter can only nod.

Ramiro lurches forward and grabs Carter’s face, and he’s about to pull away when Ramiro yells, “Carter, I love my cats. I love them so much. They make me so happy.”

“I know,” Carter replies, muffled.

Ramiro stares for a second before pulling back. He squints, confused then asks, “Can you get me a water?”

Carter nearly laughs. “I— yeah, I’ll get you one. Just sit down, okay?”

“Okay,” Ramiro sighs, collapsing into the chair.

It takes a moment, but eventually Carter gets a glass of water and helps Ramiro drink it without spilling it all over himself.

“I feel better now,” he says simply.

“Good, because for a second I thought you were gonna pass out,” Carter replies. “Or barf.”

Ramiro nods, then glances up at the stage. “Go up there with me.”

“What?” Carter’s voice cracks.

Ramiro stands. “Let’s sing some karaoke.”

“I— I mean, I already did it.”

“So did I, but let’s go again.” Ramiro reaches out a hand, makes a beckoning gesture. He stares at Carter expectantly.

Carter looks at his hand and back at his face. His eyes are dark pools and Carter feels like he’s being picked apart under it. His cheeks are red, and Carter wonders if it’s from the alcohol or their growing closeness.

Their palms press together and Ramiro beams. He adjusts his hand, pulling Carter closer in the process and his fingers slide between Carter’s. It sends an electric shock up Carter’s arm, and his fingers tingle as they settle by Ramiro’s.

Carter can’t take his eyes off their intertwined hands as Ramiro pulls him back up onto the stage, his brain struggling to catch up with his movements. Ramiro’s hand is unbelievably warm.

It leaves him in a daze, even with the harsh lights glaring in his eyes and the encouraging whoops and hollers he recognizes as Anthony and everyone else.

Ramiro lets go of his hand. “You ready?”

Carter can’t necessarily see his face, it’s so obscured in red, purple, blue and yellow. He squints and Ramiro’s eyes break through. “I— I guess? I can’t see you.”

He blindly reaches out, scrambling for any Ramiro-esque purchase. He finds flannel material and holds on. A hand grabs onto his elbow and pulls him close. Ramiro comes into view and their chests press together. Carter smells the alcohol on Ramiro’s breath, sickly sweet, and the faintness of cologne.

Ramiro smiles. A shuddery breath leaves Carter’s lungs.

It makes Ramiro blink, then step away. He puts a fair amount of distance between them, looking down at his feet and something in Carter’s chest twinges.

Ramiro had chosen the song, so it takes Carter a moment to recognize the poppy, upbeat tune starting to play. He awkwardly bops along to it, earning a few scattered laughs. It makes Ramiro look up, and the Ramiro Carter knows breaks through in a small, shy smile.

(Carter thinks about Ramiro’s dark eyes and reddened cheeks, his excessive swearing and realizes maybe he doesn’t know him as well as he thinks.)

Words scroll onto the screen, and Ramiro gestures at Carter to start off. Once he looks, Carter remembers the song from a couple of playlists he’s listened to.

It’s a romantic duet.

Carter can’t overthink this.

But his hand is still warm from Ramiro holding it and his lips tingle at the memory of their kiss, weeks ago now. That same feeling he felt then blooms back in his chest, curling to every inch of his body and a smile stretches his lips, soft. Soft like how he feels when he’s with Ramiro, who is kind and safe but fiery and passionate. He’s so _much_ and Carter wants him. He wants to be completely enveloped in him and curl up there, content forever.

Carter remembers how many times Ramiro has touched him when he’s touched no one else, on his back, his hand, his arm, his mouth. He remembers how Ramiro has stood by his side the whole night, gotten increasingly closer until their chests have pressed together.

Maybe that kiss did mean something.

 

* * *

 

About ten minutes later everyone is outside as Levi pukes in an alleyway, Liên rubbing his back comfortingly. Kai stands at the entrance, back turned and ears plugged.

As soon as Levi had announced he was going to throw up, Kai had yelled, “ _Nope!_ ” and ran away.

Chisato sits at the curb with her head between her legs with Evelyn leaning her head on her back, Anthony and Isaac are trying to climb up a dumpster, and Carter is standing off to the side. Ramiro is a heavy weight against him, an arm wrapped around Carter’s waist.

Tonight, Carter has learned Ramiro’s stages of drunkenness: crankiness, flirting, then outright exhaustion. He’s pretty sure Ramiro would fall asleep if he didn’t keep jolting him awake.

But he wouldn’t complain if Ramiro stayed curled up into his side.

In the alley, Levi finally stands up with a groan. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Is it over?” Kai yells, back still turned.

“I’m good.”

Kai turns around. “Oh, thank God. That was disgusting.”

“I felt the barf running out of my _nose,_ ” Levi replies, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

Liên pats Levi’s back one last time. “I think that’s a sign to go home.”

“But I’m Spiderman!” Isaac screams from the top of the dumpster.

Then Anthony whispers loudly to him, and Carter’s smart enough to block it out because he _doesn’t need to hear it._

“Never mind I’m ready to go.”

“I need to go to bed,” Chisato mumbles as Anthony and Isaac gracelessly crawl off the dumpster, already getting handsy with each other.

They stumble over to Carter and Ramiro. “Listen,” Anthony slurs. “I am— going home with Isaac.”

Isaac has enough sensibility to blush.

“So,” Anthony continues. “You get the apartment. Have fun.”

Ramiro suddenly whispers, awfully close to Carter’s ear, “Can I go with you?”

“I,” Carter manages. He would love to hear that again when Ramiro is not drunk. “Okay.”

“Cool,” Ramiro mutters.

Everyone parts ways, climbing into separate taxis. Carter accidentally sees Anthony and Isaac making out as soon as the taxi door shuts, and he wishes he had brain bleach.

In their own taxi, Carter tells the driver his address and Ramiro slumps against the window.

“Do I get to meet Marble?” he mumbles.

Carter blinks. “Yeah, actually.”

“I— love dogs.”

“More than cats?”

“Never. Can I love them equally?”

“I do.”

“Then yes, I can. Because you’re so perfect.”

Carter spends the rest of the drive trying not to overthink that.

He has to help Ramiro up the stairs in the apartment complex, keeping him from tripping and falling right back down them. Ramiro seems only half-conscious at this point, head lolling back and forth across Carter’s shoulder as he gets carried.

But he wakes up a little when Carter unlocks his apartment and Marble comes bounding up, barking.

“Shh!” Carter hisses. “It’s two in the morning, Marble!”

“Hi, dog,” Ramiro laughs, reaching out a hand for Marble to sniff. She does, then immediately tries to topple Ramiro over onto the floor. Carter has to swat her away.

The apartment is dark save for the kitchen light Carter left on so Marble wouldn’t be too scared, and he’s thankful he cleaned yesterday. If Ramiro had come over before then, he would be toppling onto a couch full of old pizza boxes. But he lands on a clean one instead and Marble jumps right up to him, investigating.

“Marble, off, off,” Carter says from the kitchen.

“No, she’s cute,” Ramiro replies.

Carter watches for a moment, silent. Ramiro blinks slowly as he observes Marble smelling his jeans and his shoes, then reaches out and pets behind her ears. It makes Marble start licking his hand and Ramiro laughs softly. Carter’s heart aches.

“You can have my bed, if you’d like,” he says.

“No, no, I’m good on the couch. I won’t take it from you,” Ramiro says, still petting Marble.

“Well,” Carter sighs. “Can I at least get you pajamas?”

Ramiro looks up at him over the couch. “That’d be cool.”

Carter proceeds to tear through his drawers trying to find clothes not too small, too lame, too smelly. Ramiro probably wouldn’t want a shirt from Carter’s private school that still fits him.

“He’s just borrowing, it’s not a big deal,” Carter mutters to himself wildly. “It’s just for a night, calm the fuck down.”

He ends up grabbing a Yale shirt and some sweatpants. He stops at the doorway of his room and takes a deep breath. It’s not a big deal.

Ramiro is still petting Marble, who has her head on his knees, when Carter comes back in. He smiles at him.

“Thanks,” he says as Carter passes them over. “Is there a bathroom?”

“I— yeah, yeah. It’s down the hall on the left,” Carter says.

“Cool.”

“And I’ll go grab you a pillow and stuff.”

Ramiro nods and stands. He tucks the clothes charmingly against his chest, as if someone is going to take them from him, and starts down the hall, still stumbling a little. Carter watches him go.

Marble nudges Carter’s hand with her nose. He looks down and finds her staring at him as if to ask, _Is this the boy?_

“Yes, it is,” Carter hisses. “But he’s just staying for the night so it’s nothing, okay?”

Marble’s tail wags, even when he goes to grab the pillow and blanket. He makes sure they’re the warmest and fluffiest ones from his bed.

The bathroom door clicks open, a pool of light bathing the walls and Ramiro steps out. His clothes are folded in his arms and the sweatpants pool around his feet and Carter feels a bit of his soul die, Ramiro is so unbearably _cute._

“Thanks again,” Ramiro says, then yawns. It hits Carter how exhausted he feels.

“I’ll let you sleep,” Carter replies. “My room is the first one in the hallway, and if you need to use the bathroom or grab something from the kitchen, you can.”

Ramiro nods and sits down. “Okay.”

They stare at each other almost expectantly. Ramiro looks like he wants to say something but Carter doesn’t know what. Ramiro just stares, then blinks.

“Good night,” he says. _Does he seem disappointed?_

“I— Good night.”

 

* * *

 

Carter lays down in bed. He stares at the ceiling for a moment before covering his face with his hands and muttering, “ _Fuck._ ”

 

* * *

 

His natural clock wakes him up at seven in the morning. Like he has over and over again, Carter rolls over expecting to feel the familiar weight of Marble under his arm but only gets blanket.

Carter automatically sits up, blinking against the harsh sunlight. “Marble?”

He realizes his bedroom door is open. Carter wraps his blanket around his shoulders, head too foggy to function properly yet, and stumbles out to the living room. What he finds makes him wake the fuck up real fast.

On the couch, Marble is tucked up into Ramiro’s side, face hidden in his neck and an arm thrown across her. She apparently woke up Ramiro in the process of getting up onto the couch since the blanket is covering both of them, but now they’re both sleeping peacefully. Ramiro’s cheek is smashed against the pillow, stained with fresh drool.

Carter covers his mouth with both hands before he can loudly say, “Aww.”

But he does run back to his room to sneak a picture to keep all for himself. Marble really is the best dog ever.

He knows it’s too early to really do anything, so he allows himself to crawl back into bed and curl up under the blankets with his phone. Scrolling through Snapchat, Carter stumbles upon Liên’s story. It’s long and with videos of people’s faces zoomed up. There’s one from all of the times the group sang karaoke, even an on-stage one from _All Star._

Carter watches one in particular over and over again.

It’s from when him and Ramiro went up to sing, during the chorus. They’re both bopping along to the beat, sharing the microphone. In the video Carter stares at Ramiro like he wants to kiss him right there.

The caption reads _GGGAAAYYYY_.

Every time, Carter focuses on Ramiro’s face. It looks almost comically red in the light, but his expression is clear as day. He’s looking right back at Carter, like he had been the whole song, with arguably a matching expression. Carter remembers the moment and in his sugar high he hadn’t noticed exactly how, well, obvious they were.

He glances back out at the living room, where Ramiro is still asleep. Ramiro, who had asked to come home with Carter, automatically comforted him in the restaurant, didn’t judge when he was on the verge of a panic attack, asked no questions when Carter brought him a cat— and kept it.

Carter gets out of bed and heads to the shower. He can’t be trying to figure out feelings that aren’t his own.

But, Carter wonders under the warm spray of water, isn’t this how flirting works? You actively try to spend time together and suggest you want more? Is Ramiro even suggesting he wants more? What if this is just how he is?

 _You could ask him,_ the more confident part of his brain suggests. Carter actually laughs out loud.

 _Absolutely not_ , he replies. _I could be wrong then it’d be awkward and Ramiro wouldn’t hang out with me anymore._

_He literally kissed you._

_To not embarrass myself in front of Nate!_

_He could’ve just held your hand._

Carter shuts off the shower with a huff. Before he can continue this internal debate with himself, he hears a familiar scratching on the door. He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist as quickly as possible but the door bursts open and Marble barges in.

“Marble, hey—” Carter shouts as she tries to jump into the shower, whole butt wagging at the sheer excitement of seeing him.

“What’re you doing— _Oh._ ” Ramiro stutters to a stop at the doorway and Carter nearly drops the towel but grabs it at the last second.

“ _Hi,_ ” Carter accidentally shouts and Ramiro winces. “Sorry, sorry, I— Hello.”

“Good morning,” Ramiro replies and turns his head to look resolutely at the wall.

“Um,” Carter steps out of the shower. “I’ll just— get dressed.”

He awkwardly scoots through the doorway, his old pajamas covering the part of the towel by his dick, and Ramiro presses himself against the frame of the door. Marble follows Carter, practically hopping with each step, out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

Carter changes into something easy, just a t-shirt and track pants. Marble waits by the door, impatient, and Carter wants to huff at her but caves, patting the top of her head as he walks back out.

On the couch, Ramiro has his glasses back on and scrolls through his phone. He looks up when Carter enters. He says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

Carter waves a hand when really a large percentage of his brain is still screaming. “Don’t worry about it. You hungry?”

“If you are.”

“How does bacon and egg bagels sound?”

Ramiro gives a thumbs-up. “Um, can I take a shower?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. And you can borrow more clothes if you need to, just get them out of my room.”

When Ramiro passes him to get to the bathroom, they reflexively step away from each other. It’s so different from how they were the night before, not spending more than a minute without being as close as possible.

Carter lets out a deep breath and goes to the kitchen, turning on the stove. The shower turns on, muffled through the walls, as he gets out the eggs and bacon from the fridge. It reminds Carter of mornings when Anthony wasn’t home and Nate would spend the night, Carter in the middle of breakfast when Nate would come up behind him, wrapping his arms around Carter’s waist.

Carter lets himself indulge in the fantasy that Ramiro would do the same thing.

But these are different circumstances. Ramiro didn’t come home from him to… you know; he came home with him because he was too drunk to take care of himself. They didn’t share a bed, Ramiro seeing Carter naked was an accident, and this isn’t as domestic as Carter is thinking it to be. Ramiro is hungover and Carter is doing him a service. It’s just what friends do.

Maybe they aren’t actually even friends. Maybe it’s more one-sided than Carter thought, maybe Ramiro doesn’t even like him, maybe he feels pressured by everyone else to spend time with Carter.

It doesn’t explain the night before and it sure as hell doesn’t completely explain the kiss no matter how many excuses Carter makes. He wishes _something_ could be explained because his head is beginning to hurt as his mind keeps spinning with possibilities and ideas.

With each piece of bacon Carter turns over on the sizzling pan, he takes a deep breath. He can’t over-analyze things he isn’t even sure are there. He just… has to see. That can’t be hard.

The bathroom door opens. Carter doesn’t turn to see Ramiro cross the hallway into his room, but he feels the presence.

The pile of bacon on the plate Carter set aside on the counter climbs high enough that he knows there will be leftovers for tomorrow, so he washes out the pan and gets ready for the eggs.

“Can I help?” Ramiro asks suddenly and Carter jumps out of his skin.

He turns around to find Ramiro hovering in the entryway of the kitchen, hands clasped in front of him and in a faded Washington D.C. shirt and flannel pajama pants. His hair is wet but pulled up into a bun and his glasses are still foggy from the heat of the shower.

It takes Carter a second to find words. “Um— no, thanks.”

Ramiro does his head tilt. It does Carter no favors. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. D-do you like coffee?”

“I think you know the answer to that question,” Ramiro smiles. He points to a chair at the dinner table. “Can I sit?”

“Go for it.”

Marble gets up from where she’s thrown herself across Carter’s feet and over to Ramiro, who murmurs, “Hi, baby.”

_Oh, God._

Eventually the eggs are scrambled, the bacon is cooled off, the bagels are toasted and the coffee's ready. Carter grabs a mug for Ramiro out of the cupboard along with plates and forks.

When Carter sets it all out on the table, Ramiro says, “This looks great. Thank you.”

“You’re wel-” Carter stops.

Last night it had been too dark to see and this morning he hadn’t been close enough, but Carter’s eyes catch on Ramiro’s arms. It’s the first time he’s seen them uncovered. There are lines of scars up and down Ramiro’s arms, parallel and diagonal and criss-crossed in every direction, some covered in in band-aids of different colors and sizes.

Carter’s smart enough to know what they are. His stomach lurches violently.

Ramiro’s arms shoot down underneath the table in a feeble attempt to hide them and he looks as sick as Carter feels. The air becomes thick.

“I-” Carter starts, then falters. Where does he even _start?_

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ramiro rushes out. His shoulders are taught and jaw drawn tight, but his eyes are narrowed.

Carter manages a breath. “Okay. Okay.”

Neither of them move and the tension doesn’t lessen. Ramiro stares down at the table, biting his lip so hard it’s turned white. Carter watches helplessly.

Eventually he walks over to the fridge to pour himself a glass a juice. The carton trembles violently in his grip and Carter prays Ramiro doesn’t notice.

It takes everything in Carter’s power not to run into his bedroom and lock the door shut. He’s an awful person, how could he be so _naïve_ and let someone do this, especially Ramiro—

Carter’s forearms itch and with his face buried in the fridge, he lets himself take a deep breath and blink away the tears forming.

He turns back around and Ramiro hasn’t touched anything on the table; he hasn’t even moved. Marble looks at Carter helplessly.

“You can eat,” Carter manages evenly.

Ramiro is silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Carter’s sight blurs for a millisecond before he lets out a deep breath. He sits down across from Ramiro, who reflexively presses his back against the chair. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“But you’re upset.”

“Of course I’m upset; I care about you,” Carter murmurs.

When Ramiro doesn’t reply, he says, “Hey. If you don’t want to talk about it I won’t pressure you, but know I’m not angry.”

Carter wishes he could do more. He wishes he could hold Ramiro in his arms and say how sorry he is, how Ramiro doesn’t deserve this. He wishes he could press his lips against every single one of those scars and that they would disappear.

He wishes he wasn’t a coward. He wishes he didn’t know exactly how Ramiro feels.

Instead, Carter starts making his sandwich. He feels Ramiro watching him and when he looks up Ramiro musters a weak smile.

It’s silent except for the sounds of them eating and Marble dozing off next to the table. Ramiro’s knee starts bouncing and his foot taps against the linoleum.

Carter takes a long drink then clears his throat. “This is weird, but have you ever seen _X-Files_?”

 _You’re so stupid,_ the darker part of his brain tells him.

“I—” Ramiro says. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Dude, _what?_ Never?”

The corners of Ramiro’s lips twitch up. “Nope.”

Carter sighs as melodramatically as he can muster. “Absolutely ridiculous. This is heresy.”

He points down at Ramiro’s plate. “Hurry up and finish that because we _are_ binging it. Immediately.”

“Well,” Ramiro replies. “Chisato did say I could have the day off, so have your way with me, I suppose.”

Carter gracelessly stuffs the remaining bagel into his mouth. He chokes a little but manages to swallow it down after a few chews. “You finish eating, I’ll go grab my DVD boxset.”

Ramiro laughs. It’s soft and a little unsure, but a laugh nonetheless. “You’re a nerd.”

In his room and out of sight, Carter pumps his fist. _Mission successful._

 

* * *

 

Carter can hardly pay attention.

Ramiro had met him on the couch, sitting next to him and staring at his complete _X-Files_ box-set in speechless shock. They started with the pilot, of course, and ten minutes in Ramiro scooted in closer under the blankets.

They’re on episode twenty and they are not-so-subtly cuddling. Their legs are pressed together, and when Ramiro (accidentally?) fell against Carter his arm got trapped behind Ramiro’s back. It’s been asleep for two and a half episodes but Carter doesn’t care because Ramiro’s head is tucked right underneath his chin and he smells like Carter’s shampoo and Carter tries not to be too possessive but _God._

Marble shifts in Ramiro’s lap, her head falling onto Carter’s knee. She blinks a few times then falls back asleep.

Carter can handle casual touching with a cute guy. He spent six years on a varsity lacrosse team in a bigoted private school, he _knows_ how to appear unaffected by hot athletes joking around by slapping his ass or punching his shoulder.

But the thing is, Ramiro is _the_ cute guy. He’s unbelievably handsome, it’s outright ridiculous. He’s sweet, hard-working and an actual artistic genius. He doesn’t make Carter stress out about if he’s too annoying, at least not more than he does already.

Carter might be falling for him.

And maybe, as Ramiro makes some comment about the bad special effects against his chest, he is too.

 

* * *

 

Then spring break happens.

 

* * *

 

Carter stays in New York for the week, just like everyone else except Ramiro.

“My mom’s forcing me to come home,” he sighs as he lugs a suitcase down the stairs leading up to his apartment. The cats watch from the top of the stairs, tails flicking in agitation; all except for Theo, who is purring in Carter’s arms.

“Just for a few days, right?” Carter asks.

Ramiro simply shrugs. “Yeah, but…”

He looks back at the cats, then to Carter. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“Well,” Carter says. “We’ll be here when you get back. And you know I’m always a text away.”

Ramiro’s smile is strained.

“It’ll be fine, okay?”

 

* * *

 

It’s not fine.

 

* * *

 

 _Ramiro  
_ _[6:45pm]Did you make it to your mom’s?_

_[7:07pm]yep_

_[7:08pm]Awesome!_

_[7:26pm]:)_

_[10:15am]Hey!  
_ _[6:53pm]Hope you’re having a good day :-)_

 _[1:30pm]Is everything okay?  
_ _[11:54pm]Call me as soon as you can? I’m sorry I’m just worried_

_[6:12am]Ramiro?_

 

* * *

 

Carter’s in the middle of feeding Marble when his phone rings on the counter. His blood runs cold as he drops an empty feeding cup and runs over. He doesn’t even look to see who it is when he answers.

“Ramiro?”

“No, it’s me,” Evelyn says, voice tinny over the line. She sounds breathless and in the background, there’s the sound of what seems like footsteps.

“What’s going on?” Carter’s fingers dig into the arm that’s holding his phone, shaking violently.

“Something’s wrong with Ramiro. I’m coming to get you.”

“D-do you know what happened- I— Are we going to the hospital or-” With each word Carter’s chest tightens.

“Chisato told me he’s at his apartment. I’ll be there in, like, ten minutes, okay?” She hangs up without waiting for an answer.

“Okay,” he murmurs faintly. He looks over at Marble, takes a deep breath, and jumps into action.

“I have to go, okay? I’m sorry, but you have food and- I don’t have time to take you outside,” Carter rambles. He kisses the top of her head before running into his room.

Carter’s head is foggy to the point he feels out of his body as he throws on a jacket and shoes. Marble follows him only to stop at the doorway when he opens it.

“Be good. I love you,” Carter slams the door shut and runs down the stairs in record time.

Evelyn screeches to a stop outside his apartment complex in five minutes. She doesn’t wave, just watches as Carter runs out to the street and climbs in. Her hair's a mess, curls sticking up in every direction and her clothes are haphazardly thrown together.

“Put your seatbelt on,” she demands before slamming down on the gas pedal, lurching the car into motion. Carter’s head nearly rams into the dashboard but he stops himself with his hand.

As Evelyn weaves her way in and out of traffic at speeds Carter knows is illegal, they’re silent. Carter’s shaking has reached the point where his knee hits the inside of the door at least twenty times a minute.

Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, Carter finally pieces enough words together to manage a coherent sentence. “D-do you know what’s going on?” His voice sounds nothing like his own.

Evelyn’s hands shift on the wheel, the whiteness in her knuckles fading for only a second before they’re snow white again.

“No,” she says tersely. “Chisato just— she just called and she sounded upset. She said Ramiro showed up out of nowhere and— I don’t know. I don’t know why he’s back so soon or how he got here.”

She looks over at Carter. “Did he say anything to you?”

Carter’s stomach lurches. “I haven’t heard from him in, like, three days.”

Evelyn nods. “Me neither. We— we all tried reaching out but nothing. He doesn’t text back for a day at least. He’s never done this before.”

Carter doesn’t say anything just stares out the window. He takes a deep breath, holds it for six, lets it out for ten. Evelyn reaches over and places her hand over Carter’s. It lasts for a second before she pulls away.

The first thing Carter sees when Evelyn turns onto the street of the shop is a battered, old car haphazardly parked against the curb. Then he notices how the shop’s lights are dark.

Evelyn and Carter turn to look at each other at the same time. She lets out a breath before pulling into a parking spot and turning off the car.

If they had gotten here fifteen minutes ago, Carter would have already been running up the apartment stairs. But now, he sits for a moment and clenches and unclenches his fists, trying to get rid of the shaking.

“We’ll be fine,” Evelyn murmurs.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Carter admits.

Evelyn doesn’t agree or argue, only says, “Come on.”

When Carter thinks of Lyceum, thinks of Ramiro, the first word that comes to mind is _warm_. They’re like sitting out on a hill and letting the sunset wash over you, bathing your skin in orange-pink-gold. Everything inside you mellows out in the relaxing heat.

But now, Ramiro’s apartment door opens, unlocked, and Carter feels nothing but cold. The stairway light isn’t on and combined with the empty, dark shop it all seems desolate. The only sound at first is Carter and Evelyn ascending the steps.

Then at the last five steps, loud sobbing breaks through behind the door. It’s accented by breaths so quick the person seems to be nearly hyperventilating. Carter’s blood turns cold so quickly he feels like he was plunged underwater.

He distantly hears Evelyn’s muffled crying, hand pressed over her mouth. Still, she opens the door and Carter knows the sight that follows will be engrained into his mind for the rest of his life.

Chisato is holding Ramiro in her arms, shushing him and rubbing his back. Kai and Levi are sat next to them while Kai keeps trying to tell Ramiro to breathe.

And Ramiro. There’s huge spots of dried blood on the front of his shirt from his nose, the rest of it smeared across his cheeks, broken into sections by the tears running down. His split bottom lip is still sending a rivulet of red down his chin. Violent shades of blue and purple make Ramiro’s left eye swollen.

“Ramiro,” Carter says, sounding miles away in his ears. Ramiro buries his face into Chisato’s chest. His shoulders keep shaking.

“What happened?” Evelyn asks as Ramiro lets out another sob.

“He—” Chisato begins. “He came out of nowhere, I didn’t even— know he was coming back today. He said— he said he took his sister’s car because it wasn’t safe for him to be there—”

Carter’s feet carry him over to her and Ramiro. Closer, he hears how the sobs seem to be getting punched out of Ramiro between his wheezing and Carter just watches as Chisato strokes Ramiro’s hair, half-fallen out of his bun and like a curtain around his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs. “You’re alright.”

Suddenly Carter gets snapped back to reality. Everything becomes sharp, and just as soon as it happens Carter feels the blood roar in his ears. His body begins to tremor more violently and he whips around to Kai, whose face pales.

“Who did this?” he demands. His voice shakes with the rage threatening to overwhelm him.

“H-his brother,” Kai answers. “It— it happens—”

“What’s his name?”

“Leo. Carter, you can’t—”

Kai gets broken off by someone banging on the front door. Quick as lightning, Ramiro rips himself away from Chisato and bolts down the hall. A door slams shut right as the one downstairs opens and Carter places himself in front of the hallway. Everyone else follows suit and readies themselves for whoever is barging up towards the apartment.

Two people burst in, looking around wildly, and the first thing Carter notices is how much the woman resembles Ramiro.

Her hair is cut into a geometric bob, one end starting at the tip of her gauged ear and slanting diagonally to her opposite shoulder. The woman’s face is slimmer than Ramiro’s but their eyes blaze with the same fire and she has a shining septum piercing. The man next to her has the same skin tone, a bronze olive, but his curly hair is more chocolatey brown and he’s more lean. Tattoos cover both their arms, even reaching above the collar of the man’s shirt, and they dress the same as Ramiro.

“Where is he?” the woman demands. She turns to face Carter and he sees the fear in her eyes.

“Who are you?” Carter demands right back.

Her mouth twists in disgust. “I’m his sister, you dumbass. Now where’s Ramiro?”

Levi snaps from behind Carter, “He ran away as soon as he heard you.”

Ramiro’s sister wastes no time pushing past all of them and charging down the hall. The man with her mouths, _Sorry,_ as he worms his way past.

She stops outside the bathroom door and Carter can see her furious facade crumble.

She tucks her head down, takes a deep breath then calls, “Ramiro?” Her voice is soft, nothing like her harsh angles.

There’s silence, then a broken, “Go _away,_  Celia.”

The man stands behind Celia. She squats down close to the floor and the man puts a hand on her shoulder. “Rami,” Celia murmurs. “I know you were scared; I was, too. I— I thought he was-”

Carter hears her sniffle, but she holds her head up high and continues, “When you left, Andrea and Leo started fighting. And— Mom and Dad came home and it got so bad the police came because someone called them and- Leo’s in jail. Apparently they’ve been called so often to his house that this was it for them. Mom and Dad don’t want to pay the bail so— Leo’s going to court. He might go to prison for this, Ramiro; for what he’s done to Julia, to Marie, to _you_.”

A beat of silence stretches to a minute, then Ramiro says, “Just leave me alone.”

Celia looks up at the man, helpless, and she starts, more desperate, “Ramiro, please, just come on. Open the door-”

Carter walks over. The man by Celia intercepts him, putting a hand on his shoulder and saying, “Hey, I don’t think you should-”

“I’ve got this,” Carter responds.

The man’s hand stays on his shoulder as his gaze flickers across Carter’s face. Then the hand drops. Carter stands outside the door. Celia stands up and watches Carter sit down where she was.

“Hey,” Carter says softly. “Listen, I know it’s hard but you have to let someone in. We just want to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” Ramiro sniffles.

Carter looks up at Celia. Their eyes meet for a moment, then Carter takes a deep breath and continues, quieter, “I know it seems like you don’t deserve help. The people who hurt you, they tell you you’re worthless and deserve to- to be alone because no one will ever love you for what you are. But— Ramiro, please listen to me. We’re _all_ here for you. We care about you. You deserve to have people who love you for everything you are, and you’re the kindest, smartest, most loving person I’ve _ever_ met. You deserve every goddamn good thing in the world, okay? So can you just let me in? Please? So we— I— can help you?”

From behind the door, Carter hears Ramiro let out another sob and Carter’s head bows down and he’s about to let himself cry when he hears the door unlock. His head snaps up to find it opening a sliver, Ramiro peeking his head out. His eyes, swollen for two different reasons, stare at Carter and everything inside Carter shatters.

His breath hitches as he slides through the door and Ramiro shoves it closed.

He stares at Carter for a moment before Carter chokes out, “Come here.”

Ramiro throws himself into Carter’s arms, letting himself be pressed into Carter’s chest as Carter buries his tear-stained face in his hair.

“Did you mean it?” It’s muffled into the material of Carter’s shirt.

Carter pulls away, cupping Ramiro’s face in both hands and he pulls it up so they’re eye-to-eye. “Of course I did,” he murmurs.

His fingers move to brush stray strands out of Ramiro’s face. “I would _never_ lie to you, you hear me? Never.”

Ramiro nods before leaning one cheek into Carter’s palm, letting out a shaking breath.

“Here, let me put your hair up,” Carter murmurs.

Ramiro sits up and turns so his back is to Carter, who undoes the rest of Ramiro’s bun and lets his fingers comb through his hair to push it back. It’s silky soft to the touch, but has matts and dried blood tangling it and Carter works through them as gently as possible as he redoes Ramiro’s bun.

Once he’s finished, Carter wraps his arms around Ramiro again. Ramiro shifts and tucks his face into Carter’s shoulder. His breath stutters occasionally, but Carter brings a hand to Ramiro’s back and rubs soothing circles. He feels Ramiro’s fingers dig into the material of his shirt and pull him closer.

Carter doesn’t know how long they sit there, breathing each other in, time feels so outside of them and Carter doesn’t care. All he cares about is that Ramiro is here and safe, far away from everything and every person who has hurt him. It’s maybe a little selfish for Carter to think, but he’s glad Ramiro is in his arms. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

 

* * *

 

Eventually Ramiro sighs and pulls away, and Carter’s front part of his body feels cold.

“I should go talk to Celia and Luke,” he says. He looks up at Carter and his thumb absent-mindedly strokes Carter’s side. It sends a shiver up his spine.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

Ramiro shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, just— make sure everyone else is okay.”

“Okay,” Carter murmurs, and Ramiro smiles. It’s a little broken and shaky, but a smile nonetheless.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For everything.”

A little ember glows deep inside Carter’s chest, warm and fond. “Of course.”

They help each other up, Ramiro wincing and clutching his side. Despite Carter’s hovering, he waves a hand dismissively.

Carter opens the door for him and from the living room Celia and Luke stand up. He sees Anthony and Isaac sitting next to them, looking just as tired as Carter feels.

“Oh, _papi,_ ” Celia chokes out and she runs to Ramiro, scooping him up into a strong-armed hug.

“I’m sorry I stole your car,” Ramiro mumbles into her shoulder.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad you didn’t crash it.”

They pull apart and Luke smiles down at Ramiro. “Hey, champ.”

“Hi.” Ramiro wraps his arms around Luke’s waist, and their hug is brief but tight.

“Can we talk?” Celia asks gently and Ramiro nods.

When the three of them disappear into Ramiro’s room, Carter turns to everyone in the living room. They stare at him expectantly, and he walks to the couch to collapse into it next to Anthony, sighing.

“He’s okay.”

Chisato lays a hand on Carter’s arm. Her eyeliner is smeared around her swollen eyes, but she smiles. “You did great. Better than I have ever done.”

Carter’s brow furrows. “This has happened before?”

“I mean, yeah,” Liên says from the floor. “It happens every time he comes back from Pennsylvania, but it’s— it’s never been this bad. I don’t know what happened but Ramiro has never been hurt like this.”

“How long have you known?”

Chisato shrugs helplessly. “I mean, he never told us until we noticed— you know. He couldn’t hide them forever.”

Carter settles into the cushions, not replying.

From Chisato’s side, Evelyn asks, “What do we do next?”

“Well,” Kai says. “Usually we— proof the house and clean up. Ramiro takes a shower and we make dinner so I guess we could go ahead and do that?”

“Proof the house?” Anthony asks. “For what?”

The only response is stares. Anthony’s eyes widen before he wilts and says, “Oh.”

“I can go to the store and grab some food,” Evelyn offers.

“I’ll go with you,” Chisato pipes up quick enough that she blushes.

“Same,” Liên adds.

“The rest of us can start proofing,” Kai says.

Liên puts a hand on Carter’s knee. “You don’t have to do it,” she says low enough that only Anthony hears. “Just check on the cats, okay? They were pretty freaked out.”

Carter nods and musters a smile, trying not to seem as relieved as he feels.

They all go separate ways. Carter wanders around, looking in the kitchen and in the nooks of the hallway before, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small shadow slink across the floor through a pair of French doors. He stops and peers in, sees the outline of a desk and a keyboard. Easels holding canvases sit against the walls and huddled in a corner is a mass.

Carter opens the door carefully. “Hey, kitties.”

He fumbles for the light switch on the wall, and once he flips it the cats straighten up. Their ears are tucked down and backs arched, but as soon as they see Carter they ease. Theo runs over to him and stands at his feet, letting out a concerned meow.

“It’s okay,” he tells her as he scoops her up. “We’re okay.”

Gus rubs his side against Carter’s shins, tail curling and flicking. With the light, Artemis and Snuggles climb up onto the desk, a mahogany wood and impeccably neat.

There’s a laptop connected to a digital tablet, screen open but dark. Books are stacked up on a corner and when Carter tilts his head he reads the title of classic literature and poetry volumes, everything from Homer to Lord Byron to Fitzgerald. The back of the picture frame faces Carter.

The canvases are covered with sheets, not thin enough for any color of the paintings to be visible and Carter doesn’t peek beneath them.

By the keyboard there’s a small table with a mixing launchpad, each key glowing brightly. Tucked against the wall, two cases shaped like a violin and guitar appear to be untouched.

Carter looks around but doesn’t touch before sliding down to the floor by the rest of the cats. Moose senses him there and scoots to rest his head on Carter’s thigh, milky-filmed eye unseeing but terrified all the same. Snuggles, surprisingly, places herself on top of Carter’s feet and curls up. Opie doesn’t move, but isn’t repulsed by Carter next to her. Earl spreads across Carter’s side, creating a barrier between the door and them.

With a pile of cats around and on him, it doesn’t take long for the tension to leave Carter’s body. It spills out of him in long tendrils, leaving him near boneless and slouched against the wall. Theo purrs against his chest with her eyes blinking slowly and sleepily. Carter’s left foot is falling asleep from the weight of Snuggles but he doesn’t care. It’s the same comfort he gets from cuddling with Marble, but a thousand times warmer.

Carter is half asleep when he hears a familiar laugh. His eyes snap open and Ramiro is standing there, leaning against the doorframe. He’s fresh out of the shower— _When did he even take one?_ — and dressed in a Pratt Institute sweatshirt and pajama pants. His hair is pulled up and despite the bruising, his face is clean and clear. He looks exhausted, but it’s as if all the grief and panic was washed down the drain.

“You having fun?” Ramiro asks.

Artemis lets out an eager trill and jumps off the desk chair to him. He picks her up and kisses the top of her head.

“I was almost asleep,” Carter admits.

Ramiro’s eyes soften. “If you want to sleep you can have my room.”

Carter sits up. “No, no! I’m okay, I just didn’t realize cats were such good cuddle buddies.”

“Especially when you’re sad.”

Carter’s facial expression must shift, because Ramiro looks away. One finger fiddles with the drawstring of his hoodie and Carter stands.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks gently.

Ramiro nods. “I’m just tired.”

Carter comes over to lean against the wall next to him. Ramiro looks at him as he says, “Well, I bet dinner’s ready if you wanna eat. Then we can let you sleep.”

“That’d probably be a good idea.”

In the kitchen, the table is already set. It’s small, only meant for four people at most, but chairs from the shop are pulled up around it. Plates and cups encircle a large bowl of salad and a heaping amount of fettuccini. Everyone is waiting, scattered around when Carter and Ramiro come in.

“Oh, yum,” Ramiro remarks. “Thanks for making it.”

Anthony does a mock salute. “Anything for you, sir.”

Ramiro fondly rolls his eyes before turning to Celia and Luke, who are leaning against one of the counters. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Celia sets down her drink. “Actually, we should head back.”

“No, stay,” Ramiro interjects, frowning. “It’s a long drive-”

“It’s okay,” she says. “We’ll just get McDonalds or something.”

Luke pumps his fist and whispers, “ _Y_ _es._ ”

“I— Well,” Ramiro says. He shifts from foot to foot. “Let me walk you out?”

“ _Well,_ actually,” Luke says, nudging Celia. “We’re gonna talk to Carter, right, Celia?”

“Right!” They both grab Carter by each arm and drag him out to the hallway.

“Um-” he starts, but gets released. Celia and Luke both cross their arms and stare at him. He shrinks back despite himself. “Am I in trouble?”

Celia laughs softly and uncrosses her arms. “No, you’re not. I just— sorry for calling you a dumbass. I was really emotional.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” Carter says. “I was, too.”

Celia smiles, almost an exact match to Ramiro’s. “You know, Ramiro’s actually told me about you. He talks about you-”

Luke interjects, “A lot.”

Carter’s face heats up obscenely quick.

“He never shuts up about you,” Celia continues. Her expression grows grave. “And what you said— he needed to hear that. He’s been through too much and he needs someone; so just keep that in mind, okay?”

“Uh,” Carter manages. “I’ll keep that in mind. For sure. Thanks.”

Celia laughs before, to Carter’s surprise, she hugs him. His back cracks at the strength behind it. Luke slaps him on the back and Carter tries not to wince.

When they reenter the kitchen, Ramiro asks, “Ready?”

He walks Celia and Luke out after exchanging goodbye’s with everyone. The apartment door closes and everyone turns to Carter.

“So,” Liên says, fingers interlaced underneath her propped chin. “Interesting developments have happened.”

“Is this really the time?” Carter sighs. “I just want to eat then sleep for five years.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Chisato says sharply before looking at Carter. Her expression softens. “But what you did was sweet.”

“And you deserve all the things you told Ramiro,” Anthony adds.

“You heard that?” Carter asks meekly.

“Yeah. Listen, we love you, man.”

“No homo, though.”

“Ehhh,” Isaac speaks up. “Probably a little. But we can’t speak for Ramiro.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner passes well enough. Everyone eats well and the general mood seems to be higher than it was two hours before.

Ramiro explains that his family expects him to come back for the trial since he’s a central part of it.

“He— he’s, uh, been pretty abusive as long as I can remember, I guess,” he says. “But I don’t really want to see him again? Like, ever?”

“You don’t have to,” Chisato tells him. “You can just write your testimony and send it to the lawyer.”

Carter nods. “Yeah, they’d probably take that. And you don’t have to get a lawyer or anything?”

“I don’t— I don’t think so?” Ramiro says. “I mean, should I— I don’t really want to-”

“No, hey, it’s all good. If his wife is the one who pressed charges, you should be okay.”

Ramiro doesn’t look convinced. His knee is bouncing in a frenzy next to Carter’s leg.

“Hey,” Carter says gently. “This is about what you and what you want.”

Ramiro looks at him. Their eyes lock and linger. Carter gives him a reassuring smile and Ramiro looks away.

“I guess."

 

* * *

 

Everyone ends up spending the night at the apartment, layered blankets laid out on the floor and set on the couch. Apparently it’s a custom for whenever Ramiro gets back from Pennsylvania and Carter isn’t one to deny traditions.

But really, he doesn’t think he would sleep if he left Ramiro.

Isaac packed extra sets of pajamas so Carter has something to sleep in. He changes in Ramiro’s bathroom into a t-shirt that doesn’t completely cover his navel no matter how many times he tries to tug it down and sweatpants that are tight in weird areas.

Carter looks at his reflection and lets out a deep breath. “We got this.”

He looks like shit.

One of the doors leads to Ramiro’s bedroom and Carter steps out to find Ramiro under the green and white patterned covers already, with his back to Carter as he scrolls through his phone.

His room is just as homey as the rest of the apartment, with beige walls and string lights wrapped around the metal headboard of Ramiro’s bed. There are more books on his dresser, worn and well-loved. A cactus sits on his nightstand and Carter sees the glass terrarium he got him for his birthday next to it.

Ramiro rolls around at the sound of the door opening. He’s already soft-edged from exhaustion, blinking heavily. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Are you— are you heading to bed?” Ramiro asks, sitting up.

Carter rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I think Anthony and I are sharing on the floor.”

“Oh. I— Well, um.” Ramiro straightens his glasses. “Would you— would you stay? With me?”

Carter’s insides turn to mush. “Of course I will.”

Ramiro lifts the blanket so Carter can crawl under. A fair amount of blankets separates them, Carter’s back on the very edge of the bed. Carter realizes he hasn’t showered. He probably smells disgusting; he’s getting Isaac’s clothes dirty and Ramiro is going to kick him out—

Ramiro leans over the side of the bed to unplug the string lights and the only source of light is spilling in from the kitchen. He sets his glasses onto the nightstand and settles, nestling himself deep into his bed. They’re facing each other and Ramiro’s eyes are illuminated by a stripe of light. A strand of hair curls across his forehead.

Carter’s heart is hammering against his chest. _It’s just casual, he just doesn’t want to be alone, it’s fine._

Then Ramiro’s gaze flickers across Carter’s face and he scoots closer. He gauges for a reaction from Carter, one of discomfort and disgust, before scooting in more.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly.

Carter nods wordlessly and opens up an arm. Ramiro wastes no time pressing in close, head against Carter’s chest and arms sandwiched between. Their legs press together under the blankets.

It’s weird, how Ramiro seems to slot into all the right spots Carter has open for him. Maybe they were made for each other in this way. Every curve and angle closes up, occupied by skin. They both settle into it as if they’ve been doing this for years.

Theo suddenly jumps onto the bed behind Ramiro, hesitantly walking across towards him and Carter.

“Be careful, she likes to sleep by your head,” Ramiro mumbles.

That’s exactly what she does. She finds an empty space on the pillow Carter’s head is on and settles. Carter can feel the pillow dipping beneath Theo’s paws as she kneads into it.

Shortly after, Artemis joins them and curls up by Ramiro’s feet. At the doorway of Ramiro’s room, Earl sprawls across the hardwood floor.

Ramiro buries himself deeper into Carter’s chest. The last thing Carter thinks about before falling asleep is how home can sometimes be a person.

 

* * *

 

Carter wakes up to a swift kick colliding with his knee and a choked-off scream.

He shoots up, immediately awake. Theodosia and Artemis scurry away with their spines bristling.

Next to him, Ramiro continues kicking at the blankets pooled around his feet. His chest heaves and his eyes are squeezed shut, seeing something Carter can’t even begin to imagine.

" _No_ —” Ramiro calls out.

Carter places a hand on his chest, feeling the sweat soaking through his shirt. “Ramiro, listen to me, wake up. It’s just a dream, it’s not real. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Ramiro’s eyes shoot open with a gasp and his gaze cuts over to Carter. Just for a moment, his expression turns more terrified.

“It’s me, you’re okay. Shhh, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Trembling hands wrap around Carter’s arm like a vice. “Carter?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Just breathe.” 

Ramiro blinks, eyes still wide, before a sob works its way out of his throat. His face crumples but he hides it behind the hands that release Carter’s arm. The shuttering, heaving sobs come out muffled. 

“Shh,” Carter murmurs. 

He lays back down slowly, careful to put space between them but keeping a hand on Ramiro’s chest. He repeats the same words he tells his dad when he wakes up from a nightmare, still trapped living the same event over and over again, in the same burning inferno and seeing the same dead bodies he feels responsible for.

The hallway light turns on and Carter looks over to see Kai hovering in the doorway holding a steaming mug.

“I’m gonna turn this lamp on, okay?” he whispers, reaching over to the lamp by the door and clicking it on. 

At the sound, Ramiro raises his hands away from his face. “What—”

Kai sits at the edge of the bed, small hands wrapped around an almost comically large mug. Carter notices how small Kai is, less than half Carter’s height. Kai is so young, only a freshman, but there’s a sageness in his deep, dark eyes. 

“It’s just me,” he says. “Can you try to sit up?” 

Ramiro’s frame is wracked with tremors as he struggles to sit upright. Carter’s hand moves to the small of his back to help hold him up. His face is sheen with sweat and tears. As he takes the mug, he stares down at it but his eyes are distant. It takes him almost a full minute to register what he has in his hands before taking a slow, cautious sip.

Carter looks over at Kai. His expression is calm and collected, the exact opposite of how Carter feels right now.

“This happens a lot,” Kai murmurs while Ramiro takes another sip.

Carter watches Ramiro’s face, bruised and swollen and empty and terrified. He looks down at Ramiro’s arms, hiding scars Carter wishes didn’t exist. He wonders what else is hiding underneath there.

He wants it to go away and never come back.

Eventually Ramiro looks up at Kai. “Thanks,” he says, hollow. 

“No problem,” Kai answers easily, taking the mug. “I’ll let you lay back down, okay? Carter’s here.” 

Ramiro turns to look at Carter. He nods. 

Kai turns the lamp off on his way out and once again it’s dark. Ramiro lays down, shoulders tense, and stares at the ceiling. Carter follows suit. They sit in silence, save for their breathing.

The blankets rustle and Carter feels Ramiro’s eyes on him. He doesn’t look back, not knowing what he’ll see if he turns.

“I,” Ramiro starts, hardly audible. “My brother— he had— he had these friends. They were awful and hated me just like Leo did— does.” 

A chill runs down Carter’s spine just at the name.

“And his friends,” Ramiro continues. “They would— threaten to do stuff— to me. Like, awful things. They thought maybe I could— could realize I was a girl if a guy just— you know.” 

Carter feels sick. 

“They never did anything,” Ramiro rushes out. “But— it happened a lot. The threats. Leo just went along with it.”

Around a lump in his throat, Carter manages, “It’s scary.”

“What is?” Ramiro asks after a beat of silence.

“Dealing with it.”

The gaze on Carter is searing, so his eyes flicker over for just a second. Ramiro’s brow is furrowed and he looks sick. Carter looks back at the ceiling. 

“Me and Nate broke up because my parents found out about us,” Carter confesses.

It enters the air, unable to take back and Carter squeezes his eyes shut. “They thought it would be a great idea to surprise me with a visit and they walked in on— on me and Nate— together.”

Carter laughs. “It’s funny, my parents totally thought I was straight. They assumed I was too focused on my future to have a girlfriend, but I really was just too scared to tell them I liked guys. They’ve always had expectations for me; my whole family has. They want me to be a lawyer, they want me to marry a nice girl and settle down in a multi-million dollar house with our kids and— and that’s—”

“It’s not you,” Ramiro whispers. 

Carter nods. He feels his bottom lip tremble, but forces himself to keep going. “Ramiro, I’m not allowed to be around my family. I only see my dad, my mom and her side of the family. I haven’t seen my dad’s side of the family in over a year. I spend Christmas _alone._ ”

Carter lets out a shaky breath. He feels Ramiro’s arm against his own. “And Nate left me. He thought I was ashamed of him, of us. It made- _everything_ worse and I felt like everything was falling apart so I just drank ‘till I couldn’t remember how it hurt and I went to parties and- apparently I’m a black-out drunk because I would come around to some guy I’d be hooking up with who I don’t even remember talking to, but they wouldn’t stop. They didn’t think I knew how to say no because I was just some drunk idiot and it just kept building and building until— until I— tried to die.” 

He still remembers waking up under scratchy sheets and feeling like he’d been hit by a truck over and over again. As soon as he had opened his eyes, Evelyn was at his bedside, sobbing in relief. He can still feel the tears landing on his face and remembers not understanding why he could feel it until she asked over and over again, _What were you_ thinking _?_

All Carter could think was why he couldn’t have anything he wanted for once in his life.

Ramiro’s, “Oh, Carter,” is muffled behind his hand. Carter can’t bear to look.

“My parents still don’t know. But after, I moved in with Anthony and brought Marble with me. And I started going to therapy, so.”

There’s no response. Carter clenches his shaking hands into fists and nearly gets up to lock himself in the bathroom to scream at himself over how selfish he is.

“Carter, sit up.” It’s said quietly. 

Carter looks over to find Ramiro hurriedly wiping at his un-bruised eye, already up. He follows suit and before he realizes it Ramiro has thrown his arms around Carter, holding him close.

The lump in Carter’s throat returns with a vengeance and he buries his face in Ramiro’s shoulder. His arms wind around Ramiro’s waist. 

“You deserve so much better,” Ramiro chokes out.

“I’m okay now,” Carter insists. “I promise.”

Ramiro pulls away to look at him dead in the eye. “Still, you shouldn’t be treated like that. _Ever._ ”

“Ramiro, you have an abusive brother. I just have a homophobic family.” 

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t important,” Ramiro insists. “What you said to me, it applies to you, too. You deserve to have people who love you for who you are. You’re not worthless and you’re not wrong.”

Carter musters a weak smile before laying back down. “Thanks, Miro.”

Ramiro curls back up next to him, smiling right back. “And you can always spend Christmas and Thanksgiving with me. I don’t mind having you around— actually, I like it.” 

The breath catches in Carter’s throat. “You do?”

“Carter, I love having you around.”

Carter’s chest warms. “I like it, too.”

 

* * *

 

For the first time in months, Carter wakes up warm. Ramiro is a heavy weight against his chest as he snores lightly. Their legs are tangled together beneath the blankets, to the point where Carter doesn’t know where he ends and Ramiro begins.

Letting out a low sound, Carter turns his neck to look at the clock. Then he feels another weight against it and a swipe of fur against his cheek and Theo lets out a sleepy trill. She lifts her head to stare down at Carter, blinking eyes only inches away from his own. 

“What are you doing there?” Carter mumbles.

Theo simply begins kneading her paws into Carter’s shoulder.

Ramiro makes a sound against Carter’s chest and Carter feels him shift, arm stretching out and curling into Carter’s side before sighing. Carter looks down and sees how Ramiro’s face is evened out and smooth, rid of worry lines and frowns. He looks so peaceful, mouth open slightly as he sleeps away, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Carter realizes like a punch to the gut that he wants to wake up to this every day.

When he realized he was in love with Nate, Carter spent hours in a blinding panic. He cried, he paced the length of his dorm until the people below him banged on their ceiling in an attempt to shut him up. 

Now, Carter feels a wave of calm wash over him like deep down he’s known this the whole time, like it was as inevitable as the moon revolving around the Earth, the Earth revolving around the Sun. He lets himself bask in it, wrapping both arms around Ramiro to hold him closer and Theo burying her head deeper into Carter’s neck.

He lays there until Ramiro groans, long and deep, and shifts. His whole body tenses as he stretches and then relaxes, Ramiro plopping back down and burying his face into Carter’s chest.

“What time is it,” Ramiro mumbles, voice syrupy thick with sleep. 

Carter glances at the clock on Ramiro’s nightstand. “Almost ten-thirty.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Ramiro replies soulfully and Carter laughs.

It makes Ramiro lift his head, squinting against the light. “Shut up.”

“Good morning to you, too.” 

Ramiro grunts then rolls off Carter’s chest, limbs sprawled out. He blinks up at the ceiling as if it personally offended him. The movement makes Theo crawl out of the space in Carter’s neck, stretching her lean body out. She walks over to an empty spot in the bed and stares down at Ramiro. 

He looks at her. “What.”

She meows as if to say, _You know what I want._

“Ugh, fine,” Ramiro relents. He sits up and blindly reaches over, fumbling for his glasses. He shoves them onto his face before looking at Carter. “Breakfast?” 

The living room is completely empty when they walk out, the blankets and pillows neatly stacked on the couch. The cats are sprawled around and at the sight of Ramiro they shoot up and begin meowing in one, big chorus. 

“I know, I know, you’re probably starving,” Ramiro says and starts to the kitchen.

He stops at the kitchen table. Carter follows him and finds him staring down at a piece of paper left there in what he recognizes as Liên‘s handwriting. Carter doesn’t get to read it because Ramiro crumples it up in his hand. 

“Anyway, that was stupid,” he rushes out.

“What’d it say?”

“Just that I’m off today and can rest. And they fed the cats already,” Ramiro says. Carter watches him for a moment. 

Ramiro looks at him. “Let me make you breakfast.”

“I—” Carter starts. “You don’t have to—”

“No, you made me breakfast. Let me do something for you. My _abuela_ has a really good _chilaquiles_ recipe.” 

“Can I help?”

Ramiro is already digging through his fridge. “Nope, just sit. I got this.”

 

* * *

 

Carter stays with Ramiro despite his protests, since he’s still on break. They watch more _X-Files_ on Ramiro’s laptop and sleep so much Carter loses track of time. He only knows when it gets dark and light outside.

Ramiro still has nightmares, waking up multiple times in the night trying to thrash away from someone who isn’t there. Every time he reaches out to Carter and lets himself be held until his breathing steadies back out.

The swelling around his eye lessens, bruises morphing into pale, sickly yellow and green. He doesn’t wince whenever getting up and doesn’t jump when a loud sound comes out of nowhere. 

On day three (five?) Anthony texts him. 

 _Anthony_ _  
_ _[2:32pm]dude i am bringing over marble_ _  
[2:32pm]this is ridiculous she will nOT. LEAVE ME. ALONE._  
_[2:33pm]you dont wanna know what she’s walked in on_

_[2:34pm]YOU’RE RIGHT I DON’T. STOP TRAUMATIZING MARBLE_

_[2:34pm]so i can bring her over?_

“Hey, Miro,” Carter calls from his spot on the couch.

Ramiro, at the kitchen sink washing their dishes from lunch, turns. “Yeah?”

“Anthony wants to bring Marble over because she’s being a cockblock for him and Isaac.” 

Ramiro laughs. “Sure, I’d love to see her.”

“But what about the cats?” Carter shifts nervously. 

“They’ll be fine.” Ramiro walks over to lean against the arm of the loveseat. “Trust me.” 

Carter opens his mouth to retort but Ramiro raises his eyebrows and repeats, “Trust me.”

Their eyes linger on each other for a moment before Carter sighs. “Fine.”

 _Anthony  
_ _[2:43pm]Bring her on over. Make sure to bring her bed and food_

_[2:43pm]SWAG_

 

* * *

 

It goes perfectly. Marble bounds into the apartment, jumping up towards Carter and Ramiro. Ramiro kneels down so she can lick his face, laughing and scratching behind her ears.

At first sight, all the cats bristle and freeze in place. When Marble turns and sees them, they bolt. All except Theo, who slinks closer. Marble locks eyes with her and her tail begins to wag. Marble jumps into a ready position, ready to play, and Theo stops.

Carter gasps under his breath. “Please don’t hurt each other,” he murmurs.

“They’ll be fine,” Ramiro reassures him, watching as well.

Theo springs into action, throwing herself at Marble’s face. Carter nearly yells when instead of fighting, Marble catches Theo and plops down onto the floor. Theo lets herself be held down by Marble’s paws and sprawls herself out. Marble begins licking her.

“What the fuck,” Carter says.

Ramiro bursts out laughing. “See, I told you!” 

“Well, it seems like you two are good,” Anthony chirps up from behind. 

Carter turns to look at him and spots a bright red and purple bruise on his neck. 

“Nice hickey,” he comments.

Anthony’s grin grows smug and angles his neck to show it off. “I know, right? I got more if you wanna see them-”

“No, I think we’re good,” Ramiro interjects.

“Your loss.” Anthony leans in close to Carter and stage-whispers, “Nice shirt. Where’d you get it?” 

Carter’s arms cross over his chest, covering Ramiro’s Rockefeller Center sweatshirt. He glares and Anthony’s grin brightens.

Ramiro looks at Carter, then at Anthony, then back Carter. “Is it a bad shirt?”

 

* * *

 

His first night back at his own apartment, Carter tosses and turns. At one point he wakes up and reaches out across the bed, expecting to feel a warm body next to him. All he gets is cold sheets and he tries not to feel too heartbroken.

 

* * *

 

The first day back from break passes in a haze. Carter hardly pays attention in his classes as his professors lecture on about things he doesn’t care about. By the end of the day, five pages of his notebooks are covered in complex swirls and patterns drawn in pen.

His last class gets out early so Carter heads onto a subway to Brooklyn. He texts Ramiro that he’s on his way, to which he gets a smiley face in response.

For the first time all day, Carter smiles. 

The shop is nearly empty since all the students are still in class. Chisato sits at the cashier counter and Carter sees a figure behind her, obscured by her body on top of the counter. 

She turns at the sound of the door opening and her grin is suspiciously wide. “Hey, Carter!”

The figure behind her peeks his head out and Ramiro waves. Carter’s water bottle clatters to the floor. 

Ramiro’s hair is short, curling above his ears. Bangs sweep across his forehead and somehow it makes his face seem slimmer. He looks so much more like himself and it knocks the breath out of Carter’s lungs.

Carter stands there, motionless.

“Your water is spilling onto the floor,” Chisato points out, smug.

“Oh— uh, sorry, fuck—” Carter scoops up his bottle and is batting down the wet stain on the carpet with his sweatshirt sleeve when someone kneels down next to him.

“Here’s a towel,” Ramiro murmurs.

He hands it over to Carter and their hands brush. The touch sends an electric shock through both of them, jumping backwards and away from each other.

Carter’s face burns. “Sorry. Thanks." 

“No, um— you’re welcome.” 

Carter sneaks a glance up to find Ramiro already looking at him. His eyes are sparkling as he watches Carter blush further, and grins. It’s genuine and knowing, and it all feels like a dream. 

“You know,” Ramiro suggests quietly. “I have to go feed the cats if you want to help.”

The implications behind it are so obvious that Carter laughs nervously, hiding his burning cheeks behind his hand. 

“I— yeah,” he stutters. “Cool.”

Ramiro stands, wringing his hands. “Cool.”

Chisato’s eyes follow them as they slip upstairs. Carter turns to glance at her and she wiggles her eyebrows, winking. She mouths, _Go get ‘em, tiger._  

In the stairway, Carter trails behind Ramiro. He gets transported back to December, when he first came to Ramiro’s apartment half-frozen and with a dirty kitten zipped up in his coat. He remembers being terrified, thinking about how weird it was for him to be there. 

That was before they named Theo, before Carter learned that Ramiro loved plants just as much as he loved his cats, before he learned that he liked it when the people he loves wear his clothes. Before he realized he even loved Ramiro.

Carter stares at Ramiro’s back and thinks, _This is my chance._

He grabs Ramiro by the wrist. “Hey.”

Ramiro turns, eyebrows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

Carter’s heart is beating so fast it aches and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

Ramiro frowns deeply. “Carter?” 

“I have a huge fucking crush on you. It’s stupid how much I like you— and how much I have the whole time I’ve known you. The first time I saw you I just knew you were someone I would— I would— want to be with.” Carter lets out a shaky breath. “And I know you— have a lot going on but do you, like, want to go out sometime? And I’m not saying this because you cut your hair and look like ‘a real guy,’ you’ve always been a guy and I’m gay so I really like guys. I like _you_.” 

The whole time Carter is rambling, Ramiro’s eyes grow wider and wider. By the time Carter is finished they’re as wide as plates and his whole face is bright red.

When he doesn’t say anything, Carter drops his wrist. _Fuck. Fuck._

“I’m sorry.”

“I would love to,” Ramiro says, breathless.

“What?” 

Ramiro’s smile makes Carter’s heart ache. “I would like to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Carter chokes out. 

Ramiro nods. “Really.”

Carter falls against the wall, limp. He nods at empty space. “Oh. Cool.”

Ramiro steps down so they’re both on the same stair. Carter looks up to find Ramiro staring at him through his lashes, bashful.

He steps closer. The breath leaves Carter’s lungs.

“Can I— can I kiss you before the first date?” he murmurs. 

Ramiro nods. He steps closer, leaning up to meet Carter halfway. It’s achingly slow, both of them watching each other get closer and closer. About an inch apart, their eyes lock and Ramiro seems to realize how absurd they’re being and laughs. It’s fond and infectious, making Carter laugh too.

_God, I love him._

Carter cups Ramiro’s jaw, making the laugh die in his throat. He watches his own thumb brush across Ramiro’s cheekbone, over freckles and bruises that are finally fading away. Then he closes the gap between them and time narrows down to the moment their lips meet. 

They move hesitantly, achingly slow and close-mouthed. Carter feels his hand move to Ramiro’s waist and Ramiro takes it as an opportunity to lean up to his tiptoes, grounding himself with a hand to Carter’s neck. The kiss deepens at the growing closeness and Carter hears himself let out a low moan in the back of his throat. Ramiro’s other hand digs into Carter’s shirt and tugs him closer.

Finally Carter’s lungs feel like they’re about to burst so he pulls himself away, gasping for breath. But he keeps Ramiro close, pressing kisses to Ramiro’s cheeks and nose and chin and forehead and eyelids between each shuddering breath he takes to get his heart beating normally. 

Ramiro’s resulting laugh is hoarse, and one of his hands drop to let his fingers intertwine with Carter’s. Both their palms are sweaty, but Carter just kisses Ramiro again until he can’t anymore, he’s smiling so wide.

 

* * *

 

 _Ramiro_ _  
_ _[5:15pm]Hey, I’m here_

_[5:15pm]I’ll be down in a minute!_

Carter leans back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands beating against his thighs. One comes up to run a hand through his hair, which Carter didn’t have time to cut before tonight.

The front door of Lyceum has a closed sign dangling in the window and the display window lights are dim. The sun is already setting, the sky fading to orange and pink and yellow.

The apartment door opens, and Ramiro bounds down the last few steps. Carter’s heart skips a beat when Ramiro looks up and smiles, radiant in a buttoned-up flannel and jeans. 

Carter looks down at his sweater and realizes that maybe he overdressed. Again. 

Ramiro opens the door of the car and jumps in. “Hey—” 

Carter cuts him off with a kiss. It’s a bit rough, but Ramiro leans into it so it softens.

Carter pulls away. Their noses brush. “Hey.”

Ramiro’s eyes are still closed. “Hey.”

He watches as Ramiro’s eyes flutter open and he settles into the passenger seat, smiling down at his hands.

“You ready?” Carter asks, shifting nervously. 

Ramiro looks up and nods eagerly. “Let’s go. We’ll have enough time to get popcorn, right?”

Carter checks the clock on his radio. “Yeah, we’ll get there in time.”

“Sweet.”

 

* * *

 

Carter doesn’t pay attention during the whole movie. They’ve literally slept in the same bed multiple times, but Carter’s body vibrates at knowing Ramiro is next to him, knees curled up in the reclinable seat in the theatre.

They decided to split popcorn, a drink and candy. Somehow they keep digging into the tub of popcorn at the same time and their fingers brush. Every time Carter feels his face heat and he mumbles, “Sorry.” 

What feels like halfway through the movie, Ramiro lays his arm on the armrest between him and Carter. His palm faces up, fingers curled loosely and Carter looks from it to Ramiro, whose eyes are still trained onto the screen. 

In the darkness, Carter lets his hand trail up. It runs across smooth leather and wood until his fingers bump into warm skin. Ramiro’s hand jolts but stays. Carter’s heart hammers as his fingers skate across the palm of Ramiro’s hand then slide between his fingers, curling to hold onto it.

Ramiro lets out a startled laugh out of nowhere and gets hushed by the people next to them.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they’re back in the car Ramiro presses Carter against the seat and kisses him till he sees stars, hot hands wandering and pulling each other closer like they need air. Carter’s hands work through Ramiro’s hair and make it stick up in every direction by the time they pull away for the last time, lips red and sore.

“When we get back to my apartment,” Ramiro pants against Carter’s mouth. “You’re coming inside.”

A thrill runs down Carter’s spine. He nods and Ramiro sits down in his seat, running a hand through his hair. Carter stares at him and gets the urge to kiss him all over again, but instead he gets his keys and turns on the car.

Carter shakes the whole time he drives, blood rushing through his veins from adrenaline and anticipation. If Ramiro notices he doesn’t say anything, just stares out the window.

He pulls into a parking spot right outside the shop and Ramiro’s apartment and damn near runs out to open Ramiro’s door for him. Ramiro lurches forward and kisses him again, tugging him by the sweater.

“Wait-” Carter manages between kisses. “Till we get inside.”

Ramiro nods and pulls away, face flushed for more than one reason. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Carter says. “I like it. I like kissing you.”

Ramiro grins before stepping out of the car. Carter closes the door behind him and follows him onto the sidewalk and towards the door. He feels like any second he’ll vibrate out of his skin.

Ramiro has his keys out of his pocket when suddenly a loud knock comes from the shop. Carter’s head snaps up to find everyone pressed against the window, grinning and waving.

“Nice job!” Anthony yells through the glass then makes a lewd gesture with both hands.

“Make sure you’re safe!” Evelyn adds.

Carter buries his face in his hands.

 He hears Ramiro shout, “Leave me alone, oh my God!” before throwing his door open and grabbing Carter roughly by the arm to drag him inside.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later, Carter sits down and tells his parents over Skype. He tells them about how he’s changing his major, how he tried to kill himself, everything and all of it till his soul feels bare.

Both his parents cry and it makes Carter cry, but he takes a deep breath before adding onto the story.

“I met someone.”

Ramiro comes into the view of the camera, sitting next to Carter.

He takes Carter’s hand. Carter's parents' eyes are wide as he looks at them and smiles.

“Hi. I’ve heard a lot about you.”


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four months later.

**** The shop is bustling with activity when Carter arrives. The café line is almost across the seating area, bright-eyed and determined students ready to take on a new semester.

Marble sees him come in and hops up from her spot in the ancient history section. The customer in the aisle watches her leave, crestfallen.

Carter kneels down to pet her. “Hi, Marbs. Did you keep a good eye on the shop while I was gone?”

“She did wonderful,” Ramiro says and Carter stands. “Hi, baby.”

Ramiro’s face has gotten leaner from the testosterone shots he started taking in June and his hips have slimmed down. There’s the start of stubble around his chin and on the sides of his mouth. He’s taller and more built, especially from all the times Carter has insisted they go to the gym together. It’s been… weird, watching Ramiro’s body shift and change, but he holds himself up higher, practically radiating, and Carter wants nothing more for him.

Carter leans down to kiss him, brief but soft. “Hi.”

“How was class?” 

“It was really good. Everyone’s really nice.”

Ramiro’s smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Good.” 

Carter follows him back to the cashier counter where Liên is ripping through the line, eyes not even looking at the register. He sets his backpack down in the corner and reaches over to the name tag drawer. 

Carter spent so much time at the shop that over the summer, Ramiro had offered him a job.

“And Marble, too, of course,” he had added. “I think she’d be a good addition. Also, I made you your name tag.”

Carter looked down to find his name written onto a rectangular, plastic name tag in Ramiro’s fancy calligraphy. All around it there were multi colored heart stickers.

“You don’t have to,” Ramiro rushed out. “I just thought— since we’re living together now—“

Carter had cut him off with a kiss that had enough force behind it to make both of them topple backwards onto the couch.

“Are you sure you feel well enough to work?” Carter asks as he pins his tag to his shirt. “The doctor said—“

“It’s been a week and a half, Carter,” Ramiro interrupts. “I’m fine.”

Carter isn’t convinced. He glances down at Ramiro’s chest, post-surgery scars covered in bandages underneath his shirt. Ramiro tucks a finger underneath Carter’s chin to make their eyes meet.

“I’m fine. I’ve rested long enough, okay?” Ramiro tilts his head, eyes searching Carter’s.

“I guess,” he mumbles as melodramatically as possible.

“You’re ridiculous,” Ramiro murmurs before kissing him. 

“Only for you.”

Ramiro laughs, drawing away fully. The sun streams through the windows and hits his face at the perfect angle, basking it in gold. Carter remembers what it looked like back in March, mottled with bruises and swollen. He remembers how Ramiro had been so humiliated by his state that he had hid away from Carter.

But he remembers how the bruises healed, both inside and out. The nightmares are at least once a week now, Carter there to coax Ramiro back to sleep when he wakes up screaming. He remembers Ramiro writing his testimony for the case against Leo, locking himself in his office for a whole day and coming out at past midnight to curl himself against Carter without saying a word. He remembers when the domestic violence charity reached out to Ramiro after Leo was sent to prison and gave him enough money to start transitioning and go back to school part-time.

He remembers how much he loves Ramiro and how proud he is.

“I love you,” Carter says softly.

Ramiro cups Carter’s face, eyes soft. “I love you, too.” 

Theodosia meows from behind Carter, rubbing her head against his back and when Ramiro laughs, Carter thinks of how he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! this has been my baby since june and i spent so many nights up late working on it.
> 
> carmiro and co have a tumblr! go check out lyceums if you wanna see their aesthetics and stuff :-)


End file.
